


Locks and Keys

by agent_florida



Series: All Too Human [2]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Adrenaline, Anal Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Repressed Memories, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-08
Updated: 2010-07-18
Packaged: 2018-01-15 23:23:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 38,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1323124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agent_florida/pseuds/agent_florida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The all-too-human Greek-lettered agents have some deep-held secrets. York is convinced that if he can help Delta remember, he can solve the mystery of just where they come from and just why they act the way they do. But it's going to take a lot of work to get Delta out of his shell, and outside events mean they don't have a lot of time...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1 + 2 + 3

“Where’d they say they got you guys anyways?”  
  
It had been more than a month since York had been paired with Delta as his Project Freelancer mission partner, but sometimes, York could swear that he knew absolutely nothing about the guy. He looked like he was twenty, far too young to know most of the things he knew. His hair was too blond, his eyes were too green, his lips were too full, and his fingers were too long and skinny, but most of all, he was just too logical for an intuitive person like York to handle.  
  
“You are referring to those of us who are codenamed with Greek letters, correct?” Delta was sitting in front of a computer set-up, his eyes darting back and forth between the three monitors in front of him, his fingers frantically working to compile a section of code that would allow him access to the database he was cracking.  
  
“Yeah, that.” As for his part, York was fiddling with a lock in his hand, jimmying a hairpin in the keyhole until he could feel the tumblers give way, bit by bit. At this point, his part of the mission was pretty much over. His job was to get Delta access to this secure facility and act as his bodyguard, though how he could act as a good bodyguard when his left eye wasn’t what it used to be was anybody’s guess.  
  
“I do not remember.” Damn kid would hardly use contractions, and sometimes it pissed York off. Today, though, it was endearing, and so was the way Delta was sucking in his lower lip, biting it as he concentrated on his work.  
  
“You don’t remember what you were doing before they picked you up?” Something about that didn’t sound right to York. “Well, where did Omega come from? Or Sigma? Or Epsilon?”  
  
“Omega is psychotic, for all that he is a perfect marksman. Sigma has a severe memory retention problem which does not seem to affect his strategic sessions. Epsilon remembers, though he is a mute where the subject is concerned.” And his face twisted into an adorable frown, his eyebrows twitching down as he concentrated on the screens in front of him.  
  
“Do you think you all might be related somehow?” York couldn’t help asking questions. He was curious, and he couldn’t deduce things as easily as Delta could.  
  
“Although it is a possibility, only Epsilon would know.” Then, he removed his hands from the keyboard and hit a key with his index finger. “Memory is the key,” he mumbled.  
  
After all that fumbling, York finally popped the lock open, just at the point where he couldn’t hear what Delta had last said. “What did you say?”  
  
“Memory is the key.” He leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers back behind his head. The cut of the standard-issue Freelancer black turtleneck just accentuated how skinny he was, and in the darkness of the cramped warehouse room, it looked like he was just blending into the computer system around him.  
  
York clicked the lock closed, then tossed it over his shoulder. “You say that a lot.”  
  
“It is the most probable explanation.” His large green eyes stared right back at York – did he imagine the fear and abandonment in Delta’s gaze?  
  
“Well, if memory is the key, then what’s the lock?” York stepped around the table holding up the monitors, walking until he was right behind Delta. The dancing patterns of symbols on the screen as Delta’s code cracked the database almost looked like Greek letters, they were scrolling so fast.  
  
“My deduction was that you would know.” Delta’s arms came down from behind his head, hovering nervously over the computer keys.

\--

“What?” York breathed. His hands were shaking, and he could see that Delta’s were too.  
  
“You were a locksmith before Project Freelancer.” It wasn’t a question, and York once again wondered how this kid knew the things he knew – not all of these were lucky guesses. “The most logical explanation for this is that the Project requires the key of our memories to unlock something bigger than all of us. So they took our memories away, all of us but Epsilon, and he refuses to talk on what he has seen them do. There is a key – memory is the key. All they need now is the lock. And the lock appears to be you – the locksmith.”  
  
The room was silent for a few moments after Delta’s deduction. In that time, even the brightness of the monitors seemed too loud. And of course, York broke the silence with yet another dumb question. “… What’s behind the lock?”  
  
Delta swiveled around so fast in his chair that it gave York whiplash. “That would be your job. You have always been very… inquisitive. I am sure that your natural curiosity, added to the talents you possess, will be more than enough to reveal whatever is inside.”  
  
York raised an eyebrow. “Why, Delta, I’d almost think you’ve started to recognize emotions.”  
  
“Not entirely.” His voice sounded dead, mechanical. “There are some which are still uncategorized.” He turned in his chair, and York almost didn’t catch his next sentence. “I am even beginning to feel them myself.”  
  
Before Delta could return to work, though, York closed the distance between them, leaning down to hug his partner around the shoulders. He could feel Delta’s spine stiffening, but it was a reflex, and when York let his chin down to rest in Delta’s surprisingly soft and fragrant hair, the kid finally started to relax a little. “So?” York asked him. “Open up. You can talk to me about this.”  
  
Delta shook his head, making his hair rub against York’s face. “At the moment, my time is best spent cracking into this database. We only have a limited amount of time before they will realize we are here.”  
  
“Your code’s compiling. We have a few minutes. So, what’s going on?” For a few moments, the only movement in the room was the letters on the screens in front of them, accompanied by the soft, shallow rise and fall of Delta’s chest. “Come on, Dee. You can trust me.”  
  
“Is that what this is called?” he asked softly, bringing his hands up to hold York’s arms down around his shoulders.  
  
York brought his head down further, leaning over to gently touch his cheek to Delta’s. “Well, what does it feel like?” He’d done this before, helped the kid figure out his own feelings. Poor guy was a mess, with his intelligence and his frigidity and his confusion and his attention to detail.  
  
“My heart rate and breathing are slightly elevated. My palms are sweating slightly. My shoulders feel very warm. My stomach feels uncomfortable.” All such a clinical explanation, but Delta’s voice had been quivering as he admitted to even these physical sensations.  
  
York sighed; his breath picked up a few of Delta’s blond curls. “And when that happens, what are you thinking?”  
  
“That these symptoms are abnormal, and that they worry me. Then, that you might know what is wrong with me. And then, that I am very lucky to have been assigned as your partner.” Delta hunched forward in the chair, dragging himself out of York’s hold, and York let him go, but not before seeing the slight smile on his partner’s face.  
  
York stood up straight, looking down as Delta typed a command prompt in, then executed the program he had just created so that they could get the information they wanted. “Dee,” he breathed. “That sounds almost like…”  
  
His words were cut short by several thumps on the door. “Come out with your hands up and we won’t shoot,” a muffled voice shouted through the door.  
  
“ _Shit_ ,” York grunted. They’d been found.

\--

He grabbed his battle rifle from the table. “Dee, I need an assessment. Who’m I up against?”  
  
Delta grabbed their motion tracker from his sack of miscellaneous gear. “Three heat signatures.” York shrugged into his flak jacket, hoping he wouldn’t need it. “They appear to be lightly armed. Threat level low. Chance of defeating them in combat is almost certain.”  
  
York grinned. “This is why I love you,” he said distractedly, moving towards the door.  
  
Once he braced himself against the frame, though, the thumping started again. “Open the door or we will shoot!”  
  
York was all too happy to comply. He leaned back slightly, giving himself enough of a crack, and was immediately faced with what looked like two guards, wearing nothing but a flimsy, flashy uniform. They were at close enough range that he took both of them down easily with burst-fire shots to the chest. Delta had said three heat signatures, though, so he opened the door a bit wider, scanning harder since it was his bad side.  
  
The third guard, the one who had been yelling at him, was now running for the main warehouse, screaming as he went. York leveled his rifle to his eye, scoped the shot, and pinged him down within one second. When he let the door bang shut again, his heart was racing, adrenalin flooding his system. “How’d I do, Dee?”  
  
“All nearby enemies eliminated,” he said, eyes still on the motion tracker. “One hundred percent efficiency, nine of sixty rounds fired.”  
  
“Nice.” He allowed himself to breathe, trying to calm down, to remember what he had been doing before that interruption. “How long until we can get out of here?”  
  
Delta glanced at the monitors. “My program indicates that I have extracted twenty percent of the database.” Then, suddenly, “Alarm. Five – seven – eight new targets approaching.”  _Shit._ There was the adrenalin rush again, the sudden awareness York had of his own heartbeat. “Approaching from one hundred meters. Recommend engaging first.”  
  
“I’m on it.” York propped the door open just far enough that he could fit the body of the gun through the crack and started shooting at whatever specks cleared up in his scope first. A burst, and one of them fell. Turning the gun, another two went down quickly.  
  
“Flanking pattern Zulu,” Delta called out to him.  
  
“I see that.” They’d realized he had the door propped open to the right and had gone to the left side. “That’s my bad side, Dee. Watch the tracker, I’m going to need your help.”  
  
“Executing.” And the calm in his partner’s voice helped York steady his emotions as he dropped another, and another, and another, but the last two of these guards weren’t going to flee like that other one had. “Seventy percent complete.” That was Delta’s way of telling him that they needed to get out of here, and fast. York’s eyes flicked to him, and he was standing from his command center, pulling on his jacket, getting ready to set off as soon as the extraction was done.  
  
“Don’t worry, I’ll get us outta here,” York promised. He leaned around the door frame, using it as cover, and gunned at the two grunts still standing. One dropped, but the other was now within range, and York ducked reflexively as pistol shots hit the door in front of him. Ten, eleven, twelve shots, all misses, and once the guy stopped to reload York took his chance. He was close enough that there was no way that the burst fire would miss.  
  
“One hundred percent,” Delta told him, yanking his hard drive from the computer and throwing it into his sack. He threw York a magazine, which was gladly received, and loaded and checked his own gun before nodding.  
  
“Let’s go,” York agreed. “Watch my left side.”  
  
Delta came up next to him, gun in hand, the grin on his face straddling the line between adorable and menacing. “Affirmative.”


	2. 4

The exit from their small, cramped, dark warehouse went by in a blur for York. Only a few guards came through to challenge them, but between the both of them, they were all taken care of. He knew that Delta fired some shots off to his left, but they got to the Warthog in record time, Delta’s key in the ignition, York clambering into shotgun. He had barely reloaded when Delta slammed two of the pedals down, making the Jeep rocket forward, jostling York in the seat.  
  
Soon the scenery was blurring around them, and there was nothing but the whine of the engine as Delta drove them closer to Command. York looked over at his partner. The wind was blowing his fringe out of his face, revealing his characteristic expression: eyebrows furrowed, mouth tight, eyes in a squint. “Hey,” he said, trying to draw Delta out of his funk. “What’re you thinking about?”  
  
“I am attempting to analyze our skirmish. Your aim has been improving.”  
  
It was the closest Delta had ever come to a compliment with him. “Why, thank you.”  
  
“I am more concerned about your remark before you engaged the first group of guards.”  
  
Delta was still staring forward, driving the Warthog as fast as he could, and York was surprised at the intensity of the frown on his face. “What? What’d I say?”  
  
“This is why I love you.”  
  
Delta was feeling emotions? “Why, because I’m oblivious?” He grinned over at him, hoping to dispel that serious mood.  
  
“No, York. Before you engaged the enemy, you said to me, ‘This is why I love you.’”  
  
“Oh.” York swallowed hard and turned away, brushing his own hair out of his face.  
  
“I apologize if I am imposing, but I am having difficulty categorizing what you intended in saying that.”  
  
“Well…” Love was a complicated word, and York couldn’t believe he had inadvertently used it in front of his partner. Normal people couldn’t even define it, but trying to explain it to a kid that was possibly autistic, or maybe just emotionally retarded, was going to be impossible. “I was trying to say how much I appreciate you helping me whenever I ask for it. You always seem to know what I need without me having to tell you. We work so well together that sometimes I think it was always meant to be this way. And I like that you trust me to protect you while still being able to look out for yourself.” That was close enough, right?  
  
“Ah. So that is the definition of love?”  
  
“What?” York looked back over at Delta; it looked like the kid was thinking about this way too hard. “No – not exactly. I mean, there’s the love you have for your family, and the love you have for your friends, and the love you feel for your teammates… but usually people only use that word for someone they’re romantically interested in.”  
  
“I see.” The tall steeple of Freelancer Command was rising in the distance, and York could see the dots of Hornets taking off and landing from it with his good eye. “So, are you romantically interested in me, York?”  
  
They were getting too close to Command for York to feel comfortable having this conversation; they needed to be putting together a report for the Director’s lackeys on how their mission had turned out. “Listen, Dee, I’d like to talk about this and all that, but can it wait?”  
  
“I apologize.” There was an uncharacteristic blush spreading across Delta’s features as he slowed the Warthog down, then parked it. “I did not mean to overstep my bounds. Do you wish for me to retire?”  
  
“No,” York said firmly. He felt terrible for making Delta feel so uncomfortable. “We’re going to deliver this report together, okay? Then, I promise we’ll talk.” Then Delta turned his head, those clear green eyes staring straight into York’s soul. “I promise.”


	3. 5 + 6 + 7 + 8

“What do you mean, it was encrypted?”  
  
Everything else in their mission had gone so well – York’s escort prowess, Delta’s program, their cooperation in getting out of that tight spot to return to Command on time – but of course, the Director’s lackey concentrated on the negatives. Some days, it felt like they couldn’t do anything right. But Delta appeared to take it calmly. “My priority was data extraction, then decryption.”  
  
York cut him off; he wouldn’t stand for Delta making any of his apologies for this. “They found us in the warehouse while he was doing the extraction. I managed to pick off first a three-man squad, then eight men, and we were still being chased as we left the facility.”  
  
The lackey pinched her nose. “Unacceptable. Decrypt that information right away; it’s essential that it’s on the Director’s desk by Monday.”  
  
York frowned, but Delta saluted smartly, turning to leave. York saluted, then followed him out of the room. “How can you let her say those things about you?”  
  
“She was correct. I failed in my duties.” His expression still seemed calm.  
  
It was infuriating to York. He reached forward and grabbed his partner by the arm, stopping him in his tracks and reeling him around so he could see those green eyes. “Things happen. It wasn’t your fault. In fact, it was mine. I was too busy talking to you to keep a good look out.”  
  
“So you will accept a margin of error?” It was Delta’s usual unassuming tone, but it sounded like an overt chastisement to York.  
  
“It’s what makes us human, Dee.” York loosened the grip on Delta’s arm, his hand coming down to cup his elbow. Delta didn’t shake it off; he just stared up into York’s face, eyes wide with – what? Fear? Attentiveness? “You don’t have to be perfect. None of us are. We just…” He sighed, then let go of Delta completely. “We just do the best we can.”  
  
He continued down the hall, but Delta wasn’t following him. He slowed down, wondering when Delta would catch up, but then he heard a faint question come down the hallway. “Did I do the best I could?”  
  
York turned around. Delta was still standing there, looking like he was in shock, and he realized – those eyes had been searching his face for a sign of approval. “Yes,” he said easily, walking back towards him. “Yes, you did. You extracted that data while we were in the middle of a firefight, and you picked off a few guards that I couldn’t even see while we were making our escape.” He reached out as he got closer to his teammate, brushing the hair out of his face in a gesture he hoped Delta would read as tender. “You didn’t just do the best you could – you did better than I expected.”  
  
Delta looked down, his hair falling back across his face, his lips trying not to smile. “What did you expect?”  
  
York couldn’t tell if that remark had been meant sarcastically, but with Delta, it was better never to take the chance. “You wrote the program that cracked into the database in two hours. I had expected it to take ten.”  
  
“I failed to decrypt the data,” Delta repeated, his face falling.  
  
“Then come on.” York reached down to grab Delta’s hand, hoping that the physical contact would stop his partner from continuing to blame himself. “Let’s do it right now.”  
  
Surprisingly, Delta didn’t let go of his hand as they headed back to their shared quarters together. He only squeezed York’s hand in return, a slight smile on his face as he let himself be led. Maybe this kid wasn’t a lost cause after all.

\--

Two hours later, Delta was just sitting there, idly tapping a pencil at the desk in the room he shared with his mission partner. York was dressing for bed, watching over Delta’s shoulder as the Greek glyphs on the screen were gradually replaced with Roman letters. “What’s in the database?” he asked casually.  
  
“I am still unsure. Decryption is only seven percent complete. However, the title of the database references a Dr. Allison Fairfax and a set of experiments on the perfection of soldiers.”  
  
York pulled up a chair, sitting on it backwards so that his legs straddled the back. He rested his arms on the back and let his head fall as he stared at his teammate. “You don’t think it has something to do with us, do you?”  
  
“Logically, the Director’s assignment of us to the theft of this database would point to its information being relevant to one of us. However, I believe this has more to do with the Director’s competitive nature . This project is in direct competition with his, and he cannot allow it to continue in good faith.”  
  
York glanced at the screen; a loading bar indicated the process, while letters were still being replaced. Delta didn’t seem to be doing anything. “That database going to decrypt itself?”  
  
“The algorithm I wrote while you were preoccupied should be solving the cryptogram, yes.” Delta turned in the computer chair, facing York, his intense green eyes staring right into York’s. Maybe the kid wasn’t autistic after all, just troubled, because he had no problem keeping eye contact to the point of it becoming uncomfortable. “I meant to continue our conversation from earlier – if that is all right with you.”  
  
York shrugged. “Yeah, sure. What was it, again?”  
  
“I am continuing to suffer from these symptoms when I am around you, York,” Delta started, his voice slightly hesitant. “They become more pronounced when you touch me. My heartbeat was fast and irregular, I was aware of my own breathing, my face felt hot, my hands were sweating, and the sensation in my stomach was strange.” Delta trailed off, looking away into a corner of the room.  
  
“No need to feel nervous, Dee,” York said warmly, reaching forward to touch him lightly on the elbow. “You can talk to me about this.”  
  
“Rationally, I know you are not a doctor, but I would rather not discuss these symptoms with a medic, and I was hoping you would understand.” The look on Delta’s face was one of shame.  
  
“No, it’s okay,” York reassured him, gripping him by the shoulder instead. A slight squeeze was enough to have Delta’s eyes lock on him again, startlingly wide. “But in order to make a, uh, diagnosis, I’m going to need to know how you’re feeling.”  
  
“I have already described my physical sensations.” Delta sounded slightly confused.  
  
“I don’t mean that. I mean your emotions.” This was going to be the hard part of the conversation, he knew, and he wasn’t especially looking forward to it.  
  
“I will try my best to describe it, though I know my categorization of feelings is slightly inadequate.” He paused for a few moments, pursing his lips as he collected his thoughts, and York watched, nearly hypnotized, as a sliver of tongue came out to wet Delta’s lips before he spoke again. “I appreciate receiving praise from you and archive the sentiments whenever you give them to me. I agree that we work better together than apart. I enjoy being the one that you rely on for help, and I feel confident knowing that you can offer me protection should I ever be unable to defend myself.”

\--

“And if you had to put a label on that, what would it be?” York pressed him.  
  
“Trust,” Delta said quickly. Then, “Synchronicity. Appreciation. Enjoyment.” For someone who was usually clear in his communication, he seemed to have trouble picking out the exact words he wanted in this case. “I am unsure whether the word I am searching for is friendship or affection,” he finally admitted.  
  
“You said earlier that you feel lucky having me as a partner,” York remembered. “Why do you feel that way?”  
  
“Because you tolerate me,” he said simply.  
  
“I don’t just tolerate you, Dee, and you know that.” He pulled on Delta’s shoulder so that his partner’s chair would roll closer to his, so he could look closer into those eyes and make sure his message was going through loud and clear. “I really did mean it when I said that sometimes I think it was always meant to be this way, you and me.”  
  
Delta sighed, breaking eye contact by looking down at his hands in his lap. “I know I can be difficult sometimes, York. I was attempting to express my gratitude.”  
  
“You don’t need to.” York reached up to pull his chin up so he could see those green, green eyes again, but somehow, whatever he meant to say got pulled out of his mouth once Delta was looking back at him.  
  
“I have one further question for you – the one you left unanswered before we delivered our report.”  
  
Ugh, he  _had_  left that open-ended, hadn’t he? “What was it, again?” he bluffed.  
  
“You are not very good at deception, York,” Delta said immediately. “You could use lessons from Gamma.”  
  
“What?” York cracked a smile. “Was that a joke, Dee? Are you getting a sense of humor?”  
  
“Perhaps,” Delta admitted, “though I would prefer your honesty.”  
  
It was York’s turn to sigh. “It was a slip of the tongue. I didn’t mean to say it. I was thinking of something else.”  
  
“And what is it you were thinking of?” Delta was just pushing him right back.  
  
“I was trying to figure out what you were feeling about me, and that’s why I came up with the word ‘love.’ I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t realize it would spook you so much.” York dropped his hand to Delta’s knee, breaking eye contact.  
  
“So your diagnosis for my symptoms is that I am harboring romantic interest for you?” Delta asked carefully.  
  
“Well, what do I know? I don’t know how you’re feeling. I’m old, I’m jaded –“  
  
“You are forty-three years of age.”  
  
It was unlike Delta to interrupt him, so that piece of trivial information must have been important. It gave York pause, though. How had Delta learned so much about him? “What?” he asked stupidly.  
  
“Analysis of your genetic background and your upbringing suggests an average lifespan of eighty-five years. At forty-three years, I would not judge you as old.”  
  
“Look at me, Dee.” He knew he wasn’t handsome, at least not since the attack that had stolen his eyesight had left several scars along the left side of his face. The rest of his body was just as torn up, a monument to the many near misses he had ‘enjoyed’ over his long career. “I’m not exactly in a line of work known for longevity, okay? And besides, how old are you, anyway?”  
  
“I am twenty-one years old.”  
  
Just a kid, York thought. No wonder he didn’t seem to understand. “You’re half my age,” York pointed out. “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”  
  
“And what is it that I am ‘getting myself into’?” Delta didn’t seem to be teasing him or mocking him; instead, he sounded curious, interested, smiling as he put a hand over York’s hand on his knee.

\--

“Look,” York said, taking his hand out from under Delta’s. “I can tell you have some feelings for me, and I know they might seem kind of frustrating, but I don’t really know of a good way to deal with this. I mean, let’s think about this here for a minute. I’m twice your age.”  
  
“Your definition of ‘love’ made no mention of age as a factor,” Delta pointed out.  
  
He’d just have to try a different tack. “We’re both men.” Well, he was a man and Delta was still just a boy in his eyes, but close enough.  
  
“Your definition of ‘love’ also had no genders specified.”  
  
“We’re in the military, Dee. They don’t take kindly to that here.” Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was still in effect, and if Delta would get kicked out because of it, he wouldn’t have it.  
  
“Homosexuality is no longer seen as a moral threat. Freelancer Command has expressly stated that its soldiers are free to pursue whichever liaisons they prefer.”  
  
That still wasn’t going to be good enough to convince Delta that this was a bad idea? “I’m your  _mentor_  here. If something happens to you under my watch, I’m going to be held responsible.”  
  
York heard Delta swallow, hard, and he looked up. His partner’s face looked unusually vulnerable, the green eyes hidden behind his blond fringe, teeth coming out to worry his bottom lip. “Perhaps…” His voice was quavering so hard that York couldn’t tell how he was able to speak. “Perhaps I would like you to mentor me in this, as well. Perhaps I would like you to be responsible for me.”  
  
York let his forehead rest on the arm that was still over the back of his chair. “Dee, I’m just not sure if that’s the right thing to do. I don’t know what you’re feeling, and I don’t know how to respond to that.”  
  
Delta reached out to York’s shoulder with one of those long-fingered hands, and when York looked up, those green eyes were staring at him again. “A profoundly tender, passionate affection,” he said clearly, “a feeling of warm personal attachment for another person.”  
  
“What?” York breathed. What did Delta know of tenderness, of passion, of affection, of attachment?  
  
“That is how the dictionary defines ‘love.’ That is what you were trying to explain to me when I asked you about your statement.” His eyes seemed like they were shining with hope, but as always, Delta’s voice had stayed strictly factual. “’This is why I love you,’” he said, echoing York’s offhanded remark.  
  
York, for his part, was stunned into silence. It had taken an idiot savant, a boy half his age with too analytical a mind, to make him realize the bond that had been growing between them for the last month. It had been too intense to be mere friendship, too serendipitous to simply be the result of teamwork. And as he looked into that innocent, open face, he knew it was true. He would do anything with Delta – anything  _for_  Delta. But was it love? “Listen,” he said, not entirely sure what he was going to say next. “I want to help you out here. I want to help you learn how to express yourself, and I want to help you recover all the memories the Project took away from you. I want us to keep working together, you and me, like it’s meant to be. I want to mentor you, and I want to be responsible for you, but at the same time, I-“  
  
But at that point, Delta’s hands both came up to fist in his shirt collar, and before he knew it, a warm pair of lips was pressing against his own.


	4. 9 + 10 + 11

Delta’s lips were soft. The kiss was warm. Delta’s soft hair brushed lightly against his forehead, a ticklish but sensuous feeling. The tip of Delta’s nose was pressing into one of the scars on York’s face, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind. Somewhere in the far-off reaches of his body, he knew that his own hands were shaking, even as Delta’s grip on his shirt collar loosened and the hands instead smoothed his shirt down over his shoulders. God, he hadn’t been kissed like this in years. How did Delta know that this was what he had been daydreaming about every time he saw teeth bite into those lips, or a tongue slide along them?  
  
Then Delta was drawing back. York wanted to say something to him, but his brain had shorted out, and anything would have come out as ‘buh guh huh wha’ anyhow. So he settled for a frazzled, confused, yet happy look and hoped that Delta had learned to read body language in the few hours since they had begun talking seriously about his feelings.  
  
“I am categorizing your current emotion as confusion. Is that correct?” York couldn’t do anything but nod; those green eyes were staring at him again. “My deduction was that interrupting you would stop your superfluous explanations and force you to re-evaluate your position. Logic dictated that the swiftest way would be to place my mouth on yours. I apologize if I was too forward.”  
  
York knew his hand was coming up to touch his mouth, but he just couldn’t stop it. “Nah – not a...” He trailed off, touching his still-tingling lips with a fingertip. Stupid kid, right about everything… What had he said earlier, about knowing exactly what he needed before he even asked for it?  
  
“Now, York. I must admit that I do not understand the appeal in deceiving oneself, but I would like for you to be honest with yourself as much as you are honest with me. My question towards you still stands. Are you romantically interested in me?”  
  
Maybe that was a better way to put it. Maybe York wasn’t in love with him after all, just… ‘interested.’ But he couldn’t admit it to this kid. Who knows what kinds of ideas he might get in that overly logical mind? “Sure, why not,” he said. He still felt the need to clarify, though. “It’s against my better judgment, and I have a lot of misgivings about this, but… sure. Damned if I know why, though.”  
  
“I agree.” Delta nodded once. “This makes no logical sense.”  
  
“Love rarely does,” York sighed.  
  
They were both quiet for a few moments, York trying to collect his thoughts while Delta turned back to the computer in front of him. The database was still only fifteen percent decrypted, and the program was going slower and slower as it progressed through the data. “Logically, there must be a reason,” Delta muttered to himself, frowning at the screen.  
  
“For what?” He was so adorable when he was concentrating so hard, and when York caught that thought going through his head, he could feel the scars on his face burning.  
  
“I can deduce easily that our placement as mission partners was not random,” Delta explained. “Our skill sets complement one another well. Yet without further data, I cannot explain your... feelings towards me.”  
  
York sighed. This was going to be a long explanation. “Well, Dee, a lot goes into it. You’re new to this whole thing, so I don’t expect you to understand a lot of what I’m going to say, but…” He trailed off as Delta turned towards him, those intense green eyes staring back at him. He took a deep breath. “Here goes.”

\--

“See, Delta,” he started off, “when you’re in a unit with these guys, you get emotionally attached to them. You’re with them day in and day out, you get to know them, what makes them tick, what makes them smile. You’re committed to keeping each other safe, to helping each other out, and you start caring about them, how they’re feeling on any given day, whether you’re doing right by them. I mean, of course, you never like some of them, but you have to tolerate them, because you’re teammates. But some of them, you get close to them. You’re like brothers, deeper than brothers, and you’d die if anything happened to them.”  
  
He leaned over to put his hand back on Delta’s knee. “You know,” he admitted, “when I first met you, I didn’t know what to think about you, whether you would be the kind to mesh with me or if we just wouldn’t get along. Frankly, you pissed me off a little. You were too pretty, too young, and you never used contractions. And when I saw your specialization, I was sure you would just drag me down.”  
  
But Delta looked a little perplexed. “You find me… physically attractive?” he asked, his voice weak.  
  
York just looked back at him, aghast. “Yes, Dee,” he said, as if he were explaining this to a child. “Your hair, your eyes, your mouth, your build… I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed by now.”  
  
And to his surprise, Delta actually blushed, his eyes dropping as he covered York’s hand on his knee with his soft hand. “I place more emphasis on my intelligence than on my appearance, though I will archive that sentiment.”  
  
“And that’s the other thing,” York said, pressing his fingertips into Delta’s knee so he would meet his eyes again. “At the beginning, I didn’t feel like I could get through to you. You were so analytical, and I was so used to just feeling my way through things – I thought you were just going to get in my way.”  
  
“I was paired with you in order to assist you.” The curl to Delta’s lips almost looked wry.  
  
“Yeah, I realized that.” The look on Delta’s face just made him want to kiss him again. “And the more missions we went on, the more things we went through together, the more I got to know you, and my impression of you… well, it changed. It was like being with a unit again, except the unit was just the two of us, so the connection was that much more intense. I was so mad at first, because I didn’t want to like you, I just wanted to tolerate you. I thought it was a conspiracy.” Delta took his hand from York’s, then pressed his hands together and put his fingertips to his lips, a frown knotting his eyebrows, staring back at the computer monitor. “What? What did I say?”  
  
“That would correlate with the other data…” He looked back at York, bringing his hands down from his face.. “It may not be a conspiracy, but I am beginning to draw the conclusion that there is more to the agent pairings than is obviously apparent. Your infiltration skills and my hacking abilities led us to be paired together, but you have admitted to additional feelings for me. Texas and Omega were paired because of their strength, tenacity, and rage, which only increase when they are around each other. Their relationship, too, seems to have changed subtly; whenever he is assigned away from her, he seems to find his way back, and she is as possessive of him as he is of her.”

\--

“You’re right,” York realized. This was so, so much bigger than the both of them. “Even Wash and Epsilon. Wash was crazy even before he met the guy, but now, I swear, I’ve never met anyone who was such a cold motherfucker. Epsilon can’t be good for him, even though I know they’ve been together since Day One…”  
  
Delta blinked a few times; apparently, that had caught him off his guard. “You mean to say that Agent Washington has been having sexual intercourse with Epsilon?”  
  
York just gaped at his partner. “No. I’m sure that’s not the case. Epsilon’s only sixteen, I’m sure he wouldn’t…” But they both knew the truth; Wash and Epsilon were completely capable of that type of messed-up relationship.  
  
They fell silent for a few moments. On his part, York was trying to forget that mental image of Wash and Epsilon, or the very real memory he had of walking in on them kissing in the locker room about a month ago. He was about to ask Delta what he was thinking when his partner finally spoke up. “This is not a coincidence. Logically, they have paired us together as an experiment in order to see how we would react to our partners. The Texas-Omega pairing and the Washington-Epsilon pairing are obviously meeting their expectations, and I would not be surprised if others started following suit.”  
  
“You mean like us.” At this point, it didn’t seem like a question.  
  
“Our assignment to the theft of this database was not a coincidence.” Delta turned back to look at the screen, and York’s eyes followed him. It was still in the middle of being decrypted, the progress bar on the screen crawling along at nineteen percent completed. “Memory is the key. You are the locksmith. And there is a reason why we are partners.”  
  
Delta fell silent again, focusing on the computer screen in front of him. As much as York had wanted Delta to stop staring at him earlier, he now felt slightly ignored without those green eyes distracting him. He waited for a few moments for a response, then stood from his chair; it was obvious that the conversation was over. “I’m sorry I told you everything. I should have kept it to myself.”  
  
“There is no need to apologize,” Delta reassured him, and those green eyes flicked to him, holding him entranced once again. “Based on my analysis, your feelings seem natural. I am only unsure if I will be able to return them.”  
  
That was as close to an acceptance as York had allowed himself to hope for. For a brief moment, it felt like his heart overflowed with emotion, and he wondered at the feelings Delta was able to evoke in him. If he was ever able to make his partner feel even a fraction of what he was experiencing right now, he would consider their relationship a success. He smiled down at Delta, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth as he said “Thank you, Dee.” Then, spontaneously, he brushed the hair from Delta’s forehead and leaned down to press a brief, light kiss to his bare forehead.  
  
Delta smiled, but turned back to the computer after he pulled away. “York, I recommend that you sleep. You are showing signs of exhaustion from our firefight.”  
  
“Come to bed yourself,” York teased, stripping off his shirt and collapsing into one of the twin beds in their shared space.  
  
“My obligations tie me to the decryption of this database.”  
  
“Suit yourself.” And when York turned off the bedside lamp, the only light in the room was the monitor, throwing shadows of Greek letters on the walls and creating a stark silhouette of Delta’s body.


	5. 12 + 13

When York finally awoke, light was already streaming into the room. He felt off-balance, blinking away the ghosts of vaguely pornographic dreams. He hadn’t slept in this late since Delta had been assigned to him. Usually the kid would have woken him by now…  
  
Once his eyes had cleared from sleep, he searched the room for Delta. He was slumped over in front of the computer, his shoulders rising and falling rhythmically. Creeping closer, he saw that Delta was fast asleep, drooling onto the desk. York smiled; it had been a long time since he had seen his partner look so peaceful.  
  
Quietly, he ducked under Delta, pushing the chair back from the desk at the same time as Delta’s upper body fell over his shoulder and onto his back. Once he was holding him securely, he made sure that he placed Delta down carefully on the bed he himself had just left, covering him as his teammate curled up against his pillow. A swift kiss on the forehead, and then it was York sitting in front of the computer, wondering what had kept Delta up all night.  
  
The database was finally decrypted, but he still didn’t understand the majority of its contents. What he saw as he scrolled through, though, were certain words, repeated over and over again – memory, trigger, soldier, at all costs, magic bullet, directive, agent, protocol, subject… He stopped scrolling and paused on a paragraph, mouthing the words as he read along. “First subject acquired from the Academy, age fifteen. Physical features: blond hair, green eyes, height five feet nine inches, one hundred thirty-eight pounds.” He stared at the screen in front of him, then back at his sleeping teammate. “Delta.” There was no other person that could be.  
  
“York?” Delta had woken at the sound of his name, his hair sticking up every which way, bleary eyes half-shut against the brightness of the room, pushing himself up with his elbows and clumsily climbing out of the bed.  
  
“Have you seen any of this?” York quickly scrolled back to the beginning.  
  
Delta leaned over York, his chin on York’s shoulder, one of his hands coming up to cover the hand York had on the control pad. Such a small, intimate touch, but it was one Delta had initiated, and it made York happy beyond all measure. “I have not. I recall that the decryption was at ninety-four percent at 0400. That is most likely when I started hallucinating…”  
  
“Hallucinating?” York looked over, watching Delta’s eyes flip back and forth like a metronome as he scanned the data.  
  
“I saw myself as if I were someone else, but I could still feel your mouth on mine…”  
  
“So I kissed you in your dream, huh?” He let Delta’s head slip from his shoulder so he could face his partner.  
  
Delta just stared at him in return, green eyes suddenly awake. “It was a dream?”  
  
Delta wasn’t one to ask stupid questions. “Have you never had one of those before?”  
  
“Never.”  
  
York grinned at him. “Well, did you like it?”  
  
He turned back to the computer. “I do not appreciate forced hallucination during a period where I should be resting.”  
  
York put a hand on his cheek, forcing Delta to meet his eyes. “I meant when I kissed you.”  
  
Delta blushed, heating the skin under York’s hand. “It was… enjoyable.”  
  
“And if I kissed you right now, would it still be enjoyable?” If his own heart was beating this fast, he couldn’t even imagine what Delta felt like.  
  
“Naturally.” Delta’s face kept getting closer to his, and the tension was knotting inside York, stretching his patience.  
  
And then he couldn’t hold back, and Delta’s lips were on his, and everything felt like it locked into place.

\--

Delta was hesitant this time, lips slack as York pressed on, and for a moment he thought he might have been too forward with his intentions, asking for too much too soon. But then his partner was kissing him back, his hands coming down to York’s bare shoulders, a fingertip edging dangerously close to the pale outline of an old scar. Their mouths parted for a fraction of a second, just enough time for York to remember to breathe before kissing Delta again. He didn’t want to stop; the attraction, almost magnetic, was too much to ignore.  
  
He was about to pull Delta onto his lap when the hands on his shoulders started pushing him away. Once his mouth was free, Delta pressed his forehead to York’s, panting slightly. “Stop.”  
  
“Did I do something wrong?” He smoothed his thumb over Delta’s cheek, trying to calm him down.  
  
“Symptoms,” he said tersely. “My hands are trembling, my breathing rate is elevated, and my heart rate is accelerated.” He grabbed York’s free hand and pressed it to his chest; his heart was jackrabbiting against his palm.  
  
York grinned, trying hard not to laugh. Sometimes Delta could be surprisingly naïve about things. “Oh, Dee, you’re adorable.”  
  
“I fail to see what is so amusing.” He pouted down at York, green eyes sparkling.  
  
“Dee, those are signs of  _arousal_.” When Delta continued frowning, he knew he had to elaborate. “Your body is physically responding to what I’m doing. Responding  _positively_ ,” he reassured him.  
  
“I find it alarming,” Delta mumbled, pulling his face away from York’s hand.  
  
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” He said it kindly enough, but he was still slightly concerned. Had Delta really forgotten such a powerful feeling?  
  
“It feels uncomfortable,” Delta said. So had he never felt arousal or desire before?  
  
York let his hand drop from Delta’s chest; at least the kid didn’t seem so panicked any more. “Would you feel better if I left?”  
  
“It would allow me to collect my thoughts,” Delta admitted. “The database also demands my attention.”  
  
“Well, that settles it.” York rose from the computer chair, and Delta replaced him as he rummaged through his drawers for clean clothes. “I’m going for a run,” he announced, pulling on shorts and jamming the neck of a clean shirt over his head.  
  
“I suggest that you use the indoor track. There is a high probability of rain.” Delta was already absorbed in the database, scanning it actively, fingers dancing on the control pad.  
  
At least Delta seemed back to his old self. “No way it’s going to rain on me.” He flashed a grin as he shoved his arms into his shirt and slipped on shoes, deliberately over-cocky to reassure Delta.  
  
It was like talking to a wall; Delta was consumed in his work, biting his lower lip, brows knitted in concentration. The only hint that he was agitated was the slight flush still lingering on the tips of his ears.  
  
Well, fine. If Delta didn’t want him there, he might as well leave. But when he spared a second glance back at him, he could see his partner’s face flush just a little bit harder. He slammed the door a little harder than he meant to, and it didn’t take him long before he was at the outdoor track.  
  
Sure enough, as soon as he finished limbering up, he felt a few drops on his face. It felt good to move his legs once he started running, and it felt especially good to know that he was running for his own comfort and not to flee from danger. He hadn’t even finished a full mile before his clothes were soaked through with rain. Why did Delta always have to be right about everything?


	6. 14 + 15 + 16

If York was anything, he was stubborn and prideful. Sometimes it was a help. Other times, it would rain so hard that his hair would stick to his face, the tail of his hair knocking solidly against his back with every stride during his run.  
  
It felt good, in a strange way. The rain was cool, breaking the heat and humidity of the morning, and it helped York ignore the burning in his muscles and his lungs. It was hard to see through the rain when it splashed in his eyes, and it stung his left eye horribly, but the pain was welcome compared to the ache that was still coiling somewhere around his stomach. Every step fell hard on the track, and the rhythmic smack of rubber on rubber only said one thing to York:  _del-ta del-ta del-ta del-ta del-ta_  
  
He couldn’t concentrate, and he almost hated Delta for that. In times past, running had been a sort of meditation for him, a time when he could push his own endurance and forget to think for a few miles. But try as he might to hold something against his partner, he just couldn’t bring himself to. The kid didn’t know any better, which was a damn shame as far as he was concerned.  
  
Well, if he was going to be thinking about Delta anyway, he might as well think a little harder about the database he was working on. Was that subject really a fifteen-year-old Delta? Why would he have been chosen for something like that? Why wouldn’t he have remembered something like an academy, someone like a Dr. Fairfax?  
  
“Memory is the key,” he huffed out between strides. It was something Delta said all the time, almost like a catchphrase, and York wondered what it really meant when Delta himself didn’t seem to remember anything about his past before a few years ago. He didn’t remember how to have emotions or what they were supposed to feel like, if this morning’s brief encounter was any indication. Epsilon seemed to have some insight into the past of all the Greek-lettered agents, but he was always with Wash, and York wouldn’t have been able to get a word with him anyways.  
  
Memory was the key, and Delta had concluded that since he was the locksmith, he was the lock. He rounded a corner, breathing hard through his exertion, and put his mind harder to the task. He wasn’t a locksmith any more. He was an infiltration specialist, breaking and entering to get the information he needed, and it was easier to pick the lock or just break it altogether rather than actually try to make or get a key. Wouldn’t it make more sense for him to pick whatever lock that the key went to?  
  
York slowed to a stop, kneeling over with his hands on his knees. He had no idea how long he had been out here, just him and the rain, but he was exhausted. His thought process had brought him to this sudden halt. Had Delta actually been  _wrong_  about something? It wasn’t unreasonable, but it had never happened before, so it scared York more than a little. If Delta had drawn a false conclusion from faulty evidence, York needed to let him know right away, but his lungs were burning, his legs were aching, and he was soaked to the bone.  
  
He staggered inside, using the jog back to his room as a cool-down from his workout, ignoring the way his shoes were slipping against the linoleum in the hallways. Once he reached his door, he fell into the room, dripping all over the carpet in his impatience to talk to Delta. “You were wrong,” he panted. “You were wrong.”

\--

Delta didn’t even turn to look at him as he stumbled into the room, so absorbed in his work that he couldn’t spare a second thought for York. He tried to catch his breath, and he didn’t want to make a scene, but couldn’t he have acknowledged him, just a little?  
  
At least he had gotten him something to eat while he was out. It was the small gestures, really. The plate of eggs that had been on his nightstand was picked clean in less than a minute, and then York was off to shower. Even though he had been in the rain, he still felt filthy, and if Delta wasn’t even looking at him, it meant the kid needed more time to cool off before York talked to him again.  
  
But when he came back into the room, a towel around his waist and shaking a towel through his hair, Delta was still sitting unmoving in front of the computer, holding the same pose that York had seen when he first came in from his run. That definitely wasn’t normal, but York made sure he was at least most of the way dressed before he pestered his partner.  
  
“Delta?” He still didn’t respond, and when York came around to his side, he could see his face was blank, his eyes unmoving and glassy. “Talk to me, Dee. What’s going on?” But he didn’t even blink, even though York was practically breathing down his neck. He knew there was one thing he could do to get his partner’s attention, but after Delta’s panic attack this morning, York was loath to touch him again. He was stuck in his own headspace, though, and who knows how long this funk would last unless York did something now. “Delta,” he said again, keeping his voice quiet and his hands gentle as he took Delta’s hand from the control pad and laid a hand on his back.  
  
Delta’s hand was cold and limp, but what disturbed York more was the full-body tremble he could feel reverberating through Delta’s spine. Finally, he spoke up, his voice shaky. “Memory is the key.” He blinked a few times, then turned his green eyes to York. “I apologize. The database…”  
  
It broke York’s heart to see Delta so unnerved by what he had seen. “You don’t have to look at it any more. Come on, let’s get you away from the computer…” He helped Delta out of the chair, the kid shaking so badly he could hardly walk, and made sure he was safely on his bed before sitting next to him. “I actually wanted to talk to you. I think you might have been wrong about something. I’m not a locksmith any more; I’m an infiltration specialist.”  
  
“Memory is the key,” Delta repeated, still trembling.  
  
York held him closer as he continued explaining. “Even if memory is the key, I wouldn’t need it to get through to you.”  
  
“I am the lock?”  
  
“Yes, Dee.” The kid pressed up against his side, and York rubbed his back, waiting for the trembling to stop. “And if I can unlock you, I’m sure we can figure out why these coincidences have been following us for so long.”  
  
Delta’s forehead nuzzled up near his neck. “I apologize for my error.”  
  
“You know, you’re allowed to make mistakes, Dee.” His partner pulled away for a moment, those supernaturally green eyes looking to him for approval, and York took the opportunity to brush the hair from Delta’s eyes. “I won’t hate you.”  
  
“I expect perfection from myself – for you,” Delta admitted.  
  
“You don’t have to impress me.” And York leaned down to steal a quick kiss from Delta’s full lips.

\--

Looking down at Delta, his face was flushed up to the tips of his ears, and York could feel the shiver that passed down his partner’s spine through the arm that was around his shoulders. But even through the slight curl of a blissful smile on his face, Delta still seemed determined to solve the problem at hand. “And if I am the lock, and you are determined to break in, how do you suggest this is to happen?”  
  
He hadn’t thought the metaphor out that far. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me.”  
  
Delta looked away from him and frowned. “My probable origin has been detailed in that database, but I cannot access any memories of that time.”  
  
“The only one who seems to remember anything is Epsilon. Why do you think he remembers and none of the rest of you do?” He dropped his hand to Delta’s knee, using his thumb to draw circles there.  
  
“From my observations, he has no special abilities that would assist Agent Washington in battle. Without further data, I cannot formulate an answer.” That adorable pout was back on his face, but if York kissed him now, he might not be able to think through this problem well enough.  
  
“The only thing I can think of that makes him different…” York blanched before he could finish his sentence. There were some things that York knew weren’t right, and the relationship Wash had with Epsilon was one of them.  
  
“Your insinuation is that Epsilon’s sexual relationship with Agent Washington may have caused him to remember what the rest of us cannot.” How could Delta say that with a straight face?  
  
“Well… I was trying not to think about it, but there it is.” He paused for a moment, looking down at Delta. Regardless if that was the case for Wash and Epsilon, it wouldn’t work for him and his partner. If Delta was still unable to correctly assess his own emotions, it wouldn’t be smart for York to push him into something he wasn’t ready for, even if it was for a greater cause.  
  
“The next logical leap is, should your insinuation be correct, that our engagement in the same type of relationship may cause me to recover my memories as well.” He said it so factually, like it was a foregone conclusion.  
  
“When you say it like that, it makes me sound crazy,” York complained.  
  
“It is a logical conclusion to draw from our evidence,” Delta reassured him. “However, I suspect an ulterior motive on your part for suggesting this.”  
  
“Delta.” He touched under his partner’s chin, making sure he was looking into his eyes as he said this. “I would never,  _ever_  blackmail you with your memories into doing something you didn’t want to do, just because I wanted it.” How messed up had that facility been if he thought that York would force him into such an uncomfortable situation ‘for his own good’?  
  
“However…” Delta looked away, even though York was still touching his face. “There is still nothing to suggest that it is his sexual relationship with Agent Washington which has prompted Epsilon into remembering. I suggest that one of us initiate a dialogue with one of them to confirm this.”  
  
York dropped Delta’s chin. “If you think I’m talking to Wash about his sex life, you must think I’m insane.”  
  
Delta turned his head away. “I have asked Epsilon about his memories before. His responses to my queries have always been unsatisfactory at best.”  
  
“He doesn’t know about what’s in the database, though,” York thought out loud. “So if we can get him away from Wash for even a few minutes, explain to him what we want…”  
  
“He may become more helpful,” Delta agreed. He stood, still slightly shaky, and looked down at York. “We must not delay.”


	7. 17 + 18

“How do you know where he’s going to be, anyway?” York asked Delta as his partner yanked him down the hall by his wrist.  
  
“Swift deduction,” Delta called back in a tone that wondered why York doubted him.  
  
At first, York couldn’t tell where they were going. Then, they were running outside into the rain for a few brief moments before ducking into another nearby building. The room they found themselves in was filled with guns and ammunition, and there was a series of loud bangs coming from the room adjacent: the shooting range. “You’re sure that’s him?”  
  
“Agent Washington is very… particular about the schedule Epsilon keeps.” A few moments of silence, then Delta pointed out, “Reloading. Now is the best time.”  
  
Apparently they hadn’t been fast enough. A lean teenager with shaggy black hair was shoving a clip into his pistol as they entered the room, but as they barged in, his impossibly blue eyes flicked right to them. Before they could go more than a few steps, they were staring at the muzzle of a gun, the pistol in Epsilon’s hands pointed at each of them in turn. “The hell do you want?”  
  
“Alarm,” Delta said at the same time York threw his hands into the air. “Whoa, whoa, no need for a gun here. We just want to talk.”  
  
Epsilon wasn’t buying it; now the pistol was trained on York exclusively. “About what?”  
  
Delta was cool as a cucumber when he spoke. “Memory is the key, Epsilon.”  
  
Epsilon’s focus shifted, and so did his gun. “You keep saying that, but you’ve never told me what it’s the key  _to_.”  
  
“We found a database,” York interrupted. He didn’t want Delta to have to carry the full weight of this conversation.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Finally, Epsilon let up with his pistol, holding it up near his shoulder, finger off the trigger, safety back on. “Guess they figured out I wasn’t talking, so they’d have to get the information themselves.”  
  
“There’s not much in it,” York clarified. “Just vague glosses, really.”  
  
“They covered their tracks pretty well once they figured out what could trigger us. If we can’t prove our stories are true, there’s no call to investigate them.” He still refused to put down the gun, and there was a mad glint in his eyes, the hue even more supersaturated.  
  
“So there is a trigger,” Delta mused aloud.  
  
Then the gun was trained on him again, safety clicking off, Epsilon’s finger curled inside the finger guard. “I’ll show you a trigger,” he threatened. Though he was sure Delta would shrink away from such a confrontation, York was surprised to see that he was staring right back at his brother, his gaze just as intense.  
  
“Epsilon, we just want to talk,” York repeated. He could almost taste the tension in the room. After a few more seconds, the gun was back at Epsilon’s shoulder, and York could see, out of the corner of his right eye, that Delta had sighed as it was taken away. At least the kid seemed to know what fear felt like, if not relief. He looked around the room for something to distract Epsilon’s attention when he spotted a used target on the floor. “That’s a pretty clean target,” he noted. Too clean for York’s taste; with an aim that good, Epsilon must have been superhuman.  
  
“Oh, that?” He looked over his shoulder. “Wash makes me practice. Says he likes me to stay sharp.”  
  
“So you do it for Wash, then?” York asked him.  
  
“No,” he said, too quickly. Epsilon didn’t blush, but it didn’t matter. There were other tells, like the way his fist clenched up and the way his mouth wrinkled as he tried not to smile.

\--

York crossed his arms as he surveyed Epsilon. Just a kid, too young to be a soldier, but too haunted for a normal life – but wasn’t it the same with all the Greek-lettered agents? “Bet you like doing everything he tells you to.”  
  
“It makes him happy.” Epsilon shrugged. “I like it when he’s happy.”  
  
“So you’re really with him, huh? I bet that makes things a little complicated.” York knew it was risky to be probing him so much when he had a gun in his hand, but there was really no other way to have this confrontation.  
  
And of course, the gun came down again in his face. “You wouldn’t happen to have any proof of that, would you?” he challenged. He was starting to pick up Wash’s speech patterns, most particularly the way he made his threats. It was a dead giveaway, really.  
  
“Epsilon, don’t play dumb with me. You remember the day I walked in on you and Wash in the locker room.” And when his blue eyes went wide, York knew he had struck a nerve.  
  
“I remember everything,” Epsilon said, his voice venomous. “And I remember that you didn’t see  _anything_. Remember?” His gun twitched a little in his hand as he spoke.  
  
“Okay, okay, I get the idea. I’ve never seen you and Wash in a compromising position.” He took a step backwards, his hands up, hoping it would get Epsilon to put the gun back up again. A few more tension-filled seconds, and then the safety was on and the gun was pointed at the floor.  
  
“When did this start?” Delta asked quietly, his voice unassuming.  
  
“Pretty much as soon as they put us together. I don’t really know – I got really mad and it just kind of, you know… happened.” He looked pointedly at York as he said this, keeping his admission intentionally vague.  
  
“Do you recall what it was you were angry about?” Delta asked again in that same calm, hushed tone.  
  
“He kept asking all these questions. Questions about where I was from, where I grew up, why I was a soldier when I was so young – stuff like that. I couldn’t remember anything, and I kept telling him that, but he kept pressing me for answers, and eventually I just snapped, called him a bastard and an asshole, you know, that kind of thing.” He bit his lip before continuing. “Apparently he liked it.”  
  
“You remembered nothing before you were paired with Agent Washington, is that correct?” Delta asked.  
  
“Nothing. Not a thing,” Epsilon confirmed. “And now I wish I could forget.”  
  
“Could you tell me what it was that you remembered?” Delta finally asked.  
  
“Not a chance in hell.” Epsilon turned his back on him then, signaling that the conversation was over.  
  
But Delta persisted. “As your brother, I insist that you…”  
  
He couldn’t finish his sentence; Epsilon’s dark chuckle was too loud at that point. “You think we’re related? My only brother is Alpha. You don’t even know, Delta. You don’t even know…”  
  
It was at that point that York got cold feet. Epsilon was obviously crazier than he had anticipated. “Look, I’m sorry we bothered you here, but…” he started to say.  
  
“Just leave,” Epsilon told them, his voice cold.  
  
York wasted no time in yanking Delta out of the shooting range by his upper arm, and no sooner had they shut the door to the armory than Epsilon’s pistol began firing again. It had been too close of a call. “I’m sorry you didn’t get the information you wanted.”  
  
“On the contrary,” Delta said, looking up at him with a determined look on his face. “We now know significantly more than we knew before.”


	8. 19 + 20 + 21

Before York could stop him, Delta was running back out of the building that contained the shooting range, out into the rain, and back inside on the other side. “Dee, where are you going?” he shouted, running to catch up.  
  
Delta didn’t answer him, which was typical. Kid had a one-track mind sometimes, and interrupting him when he was in the middle of a logical deduction meant certain derailment. As York followed him down the hallways, though, he realized that they were headed to the cafeteria. There were still some members of the Freelancer Corps here eating their lunch, their white uniforms immaculate, but Delta ignored them as he grabbed a sack, then began ransacking the food options they had available. Pieces of fruit and a few sandwiches were all he had the patience to grab before he was running off again, biting into the corner of a sandwich as he left.  
  
“Why do you need that?” York asked him as he chased him down the hallway to their room.  
  
“There is no time to waste,” Delta said around a mouthful of food. Within seconds of arriving at their room, he was sitting at the desk, fingers tapping at the computer keyboard.  
  
“What are you doing?” York was vaguely aware of how stupid his questions sounded, but it was rare for Delta to get this incensed by an idea, and he wanted in on it.  
  
“Project Freelancer must already have access to thousands of other databases similar to the one we recovered yesterday,” Delta explained, his typing never slowing. “These other databases, should I be able to locate them, may be able to tell us what types of memories Epsilon has been able to recover. I am interested in our previous training, not childhood memories.”  
  
“You don’t have to do this, Dee.” And when he placed his hand on his partner’s shoulder, Delta stopped his typing, looking up at him instead with those impossibly green eyes. “We have the confirmation we needed. You’re going to get all your memories back.”  
  
Delta’s shoulders rose a little under his hand, and then he was letting out a heavy sigh. “I may be unable to accept the reality of the memories I recover through your… method. This research is to confirm that I will not eventually succumb to psychosis.”  
  
“You mean like Epsilon? I’d bet half of that is Wash. He’d drive  _me_  insane, too,” York grumbled.  
  
“This is not a joking matter, York.” But when Delta turned back to the computer, York could feel a shiver run up the kid’s spine through the hand still on his shoulder.  
  
York pulled the computer chair out so he could talk to Delta without any distractions. “Are you afraid, Delta?” The wideness of his eyes, the clear panic in his face, and the rigid set of his shoulders were clear giveaways, but York wanted his partner to think beyond the mere physical signs of emotions and onto what he was truly feeling.  
  
Finally, Delta gave a small nod. “Terrified.”  
  
“There’s no reason for it.” York leaned down to press his forehead to Delta’s, and he could feel the kid’s soft breath in his face. “Don’t you trust yourself?”  
  
“Do you trust me, York?” he asked, his voice small.  
  
“Of course. I love you.” This one slipped so easily off his tongue, like he had been saying it for years, and he followed it with a short kiss on Delta’s forehead. “You have the most mental fortitude of anyone I’ve ever met – and I’ve kept company with soldiers for most of my life, so that’s saying something. If anyone can handle regaining potentially traumatic memories, it would be you.”

\--

“I am unable to categorize most emotions,” Delta pointed out. “I may also be unable to categorize these new memories.”  
  
“Did you ever stop to think that the two might be related?” He had Delta’s attention; his face looked more composed, more concentrating than fearful. “What if they took away your emotions so you wouldn’t be able to remember what they did to you? What if all they left you with was your logical side, because it wouldn’t be able to understand the emotional scarring they were putting you through?”  
  
“This does not explain why the rest of the Greek-lettered agents are not the same as I am.” A brief flicker of what looked like concern flashed over his face, and hope rose within York that perhaps, the more he could talk about emotions with Delta, the more he could recover his lost faculties.  
  
“They don’t have to be the same as you. Whatever they did to you, they did to them, only they coped with it differently.” He touched his fingertips one by one as he started going through the list. “Gamma lies to everyone about everything; the less people can trust him, the more he can tell the truth about what happened without it looking suspicious. Self-denial is his defense mechanism, and he just projects it on everything else. Omega’s so filled with rage from what happened to him that it’s all that’s left of him now, even though by now he can’t even remember what he’s supposed to hate. Sigma’s got nothing but an overactive imagination left – he probably spent the whole time wishing he was somewhere else. Theta’s so depressed it’s a wonder he’s still functioning.”  
  
“Ah. I see the pattern. Yet Epsilon does not seem to fit.” Delta’s adorable thinking face was on, and this time York really did steal a quick kiss from those exceptionally pouty lips.  
  
“Epsilon must’ve never made a defense mechanism to what they put you guys through. Put an unstable guy with another unstable guy and have them doing unstable things, and he starts remembering everything, but without a filter to put it through. Now he’s insane.” Then York frowned. “How old was he, anyway, when the whole thing started?”  
  
Delta rolled the chair away from him, turning back to the computer so he could look through the database. A few seconds later, his face went white. “He was nine years old when our project started six and a half years ago.”  
  
York had had something to say on the tip of his tongue, but now he felt more nauseous than anything. “Nine years old?” Delta pointed to the words on the screen, and York’s only response was to swallow thickly. “No wonder. Hadn’t even hit puberty.” A child. What in the world had made them think that whatever they did was okay to do to a child?  
  
“I am the oldest of our group,” Delta said. “Perhaps I face the least threat of mental instability.”  
  
“That’s what I’m trying to say, Dee. You have nothing to be afraid of in getting your memories back.” York looked at him sideways. “Or is that not what you’re really afraid of?” Then Delta turned to look at him, his eyes full of emotional pain and fear, and York understood. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of your own feelings.”  
  
“I remember what it feels like to be this afraid,” he said, his voice shaking.  
  
York couldn’t stop the sudden onset of compassion he felt, and the only way he knew how to show it was to hug Delta around the shoulders. He hadn’t been expecting it, his body stiff as York’s arms went around him, but then York was whispering into his ear, “It’s okay, Dee. I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”

\--

Eventually, Delta’s shoulders relaxed. Then, to York’s surprise, his partner’s arms were coming around his back to hold him close, fingers fisting in his shirt as he buried his forehead in one of York’s shoulders. For a few moments they stayed like this, York overwhelmed with the feeling of Delta breathing in his arms – such a small thing to notice, but it brought him unprecedented clarity. “Thank you,” Delta said softly, sounding calmer now that York was holding him.  
  
Then, with a final squeeze, York pulled back. “What do you need from me right now?”  
  
Delta’s eyes weren’t so fearful now; he seemed more focused. “I will need your assistance with categorizing which databases I consider a priority,” he said, his voice professional as he turned to the computer once again. “A systematic overlook of the physical locations of the databases would not be amiss, should I be unable to hack in remotely.”  
  
“Got it.” York delved into the first desk drawer for his slate computer, the one he used to plan his infiltrations. “Do we have a plan of the building on here?”  
  
Delta’s fingers were flying across the computer keys. “Downloading now. Sending to your device.”  
  
York grabbed at one of the sandwiches Delta had pilfered and started eating a late lunch as the map loaded onto his slate. His partner seemed like such a different person when he was on a mission, collected and calm in the face of difficulty, and York marveled at the switch in his personality. One minute he was an insecure teenager, the boy he was six and a half years ago, frightened and overwhelmed; the next, he was a capable and lethal adult, his composure and competence frightening. For what seemed like the thousandth time since they had been paired, York wondered if he would ever truly understand this kid, but at least he was trying. “So, what is it that I’m looking for?”  
  
They spent the next eight hours doing intensive research on the locations of the databases that Delta would need. Not only was York keeping a list of their locations, but he was ranking them in order of difficulty. Some were available over the network but were harder to crack, whereas others would take some skill to find but would then be available for transfer to Delta’s hard drive. They would both steal bites of food whenever they got a spare moment, and Delta continued to keep York informed of his emotional state..  
  
Then, as he looked over his marked map, York noticed something. “Whose office is this?”  
  
Delta looked down at the slate. “The counselor takes his meetings in there.”  
  
York had never been in there himself, but Delta had. “Does he have a computer?”  
  
“Yes. However…” Then Delta paused. “Yes,” he amended.  
  
“Computer means hard drive, right?”  
  
Delta nodded. “If I can access the hard drive, it may give me information on Epsilon’s sessions with him.”  
  
“And wouldn’t that help you see whether you can handle the weight of all this?”  
  
Delta looked up at him. “Acquiring classified information between patient and counselor in this manner would be dishonest.”  
  
“It would,” York agreed, putting weight on his words.  
  
Delta only grinned back at him in that adorable, malicious way, the grin that meant he was about to cause a lot of havoc in a short amount of time. “And is the counselor in his office on Saturday evenings?”  
  
“Not to the best of my knowledge.”  
  
Delta rose from the computer, grabbing his sack of gear. “Then I will need your assistance to break in,” he announced as he took his pistol from his bag and checked his cartridge, staring at York with a determined look on his face.


	9. 22 + 23 + 24 + 25

It was dark out by now, the black turtlenecks of the Project Freelancer uniform blending into the shadows inside the building as York and Delta made their way silently to the counselor’s office. Delta was exceedingly jumpy, pointing his pistols at shadows and turning a suspicious eye on everything that moved. For his part, York was just trying to follow along with the map on his slate. He hadn’t been down to this part of the building before, and he needed to memorize his surroundings in case they were ambushed and trapped. Of course, it was a Saturday night. If any of the other agents or members of the Freelancer corps were still here, it spoke more for them than it did for him.  
  
Finally, Delta stopped in front of a door that otherwise looked unremarkable. He motioned for York to come over with a wave of his pistol, then put a hand to the door handle. Above it popped up a holographic display, showing an orange circle surrounded by blue-purple markings. There was another block of orange on the left side. It was obviously a lock. “Dee, why didn’t you tell me about this?” he asked, keeping his voice down.  
  
“Your skills as an infiltration specialist led me to assume you would be able to manipulate it,” Delta whispered back, taking his hand from the handle.  
  
“You said an  _encrypted_  lock,” he complained, reaching out a finger to manipulate the display. “This is a  _holographic_  lock.”  
  
“I was unaware of a difference.”  
  
“They have different names.” He attempted to slide the orange block nearer to the circle, but it wouldn’t budge.  
  
“Will you be able to break in?”  
  
“I don’t know if I can do this.” Even when York brought up two fingers on each hand to manipulate the controls, it still seemed outside his skill level. But thankfully, there was always more than one way behind a locked door, so he brought out his rifle and hefted it up as if to melee the door.  
  
“What are you doing?” Delta hissed.  
  
“Dee, when I can’t  _pick_  locks, I  _break_  them.”  
  
He was about to bring the gun down when Delta grabbed his arm. The expression on his face was horrified. “That lock is connected to the hard drive. If you break it, I will not be able to access Epsilon’s files.”  
  
Well, that certainly changed the rules. Guess he’d have to do it the hard way. He lowered his rifle slowly, stowing it away before setting to work on the display again. Whatever he did, though, the little orange bar didn’t seem to want to meet up with the circle. Why couldn’t this have been a standard lock? What was so important behind this door that merited security of this caliber?  
  
Delta was already on high alert, which was making him more than a little impatient. He sighed, holstering his pistol. “Honestly…” Then, without warning, his hands were coming up to cup around York’s, his long fingers molding to the ones that were already manipulating the hologram.  
  
Delta was touching him. Delta was touching him with those thin, soft hands, pressing his body up against York’s back so that he could control his fingers and pick the lock himself. York was too caught up in the unexpected pleasure of the small touches, the feel of Delta’s cheek pressed up against his shoulder, the seamless heat from lower back to thigh, the caress of Delta’s palm, to pay attention to the subtle changes in the feel of the lock under his fingers. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew Delta was trying to teach him how to deal with these in the future, but he would gladly forget it all again if it meant his partner would voluntarily touch him like this.

\--

It took Delta no more than a minute to manipulate York’s fingers and pick the lock. Then Delta’s hand was on the door handle, the other hand pulling York inside the room by the hand. The door was heavy, and it slammed shut loudly, but not as loud as the thud of York pinning Delta to the door, the yank of Delta’s hand still in his pulling them together.  
  
Even though York was now old hand at breaking and entering, the excitement of the crime had never really diminished over time. What excited him even more was that it had been Delta’s idea to do this, Delta’s hands manipulating the lock, Delta’s body pressed up against his, Delta’s yank that had caused them to be in this position. Delta wanted this, York could tell, and he trapped Delta’s hand on the door as Delta’s lips came up to meet his.  
  
It was mutual, and it was glorious, the feeling of Delta’s sweet tongue pressing up against his, Delta’s grip on his hand tightening as the sensations increased, Delta’s arm coming around his lower back to hold him closer. He seemed so fragile, all bones and no brawn, but York knew his partner was no piece of china. Every kiss of theirs grew more furious, and when York slid his body against Delta’s he could feel just how desperate his partner had become for his touch.  
  
It was when York pulled back slightly, tugging on Delta’s luscious bottom lip with his teeth, that his partner began to sag at the knees, a quiet  _ah_  coming from his throat. It made York hot to know he could make Delta lose control like this, and he resolved not to stop, whipping the two of them around so that Delta was now pinned to the top of the counselor’s desk. A file slipped from under Delta’s elbows as his arms came up around York, and if York thought his own heart was beating wildly, it was nothing compared to the thumps he could feel as he pressed his chest to Delta’s.  
  
He slipped two fingers under the neck of Delta’s uniform, tugging it down so that he could get his mouth onto that neck, dragging his teeth across that exaggerated adam’s apple before sucking at the skin just below Delta’s ear. His partner’s hands came down to grab at the bottom hem of his turtleneck, grasping onto the fabric but not daring to pull it up too far. The knuckles of those wonderful hands were just brushing against the small of York’s back, a sensation that was threatening to undo his composure. Delta’s hips were pushing up into York’s, seeming unashamed as he let out a long and heavy sigh, and York pressed right back against him, enjoying this feeling far too much.  
  
He was surprised that the kid hadn’t given himself a heart attack by now, but as he moved the two fingers in Delta’s collar to check his pulse, he could tell that Delta was reacting normally. No, better than normally, because he was finally responding to York, showing York what he was capable of, and York was thrilled when Delta gasped and mumbled, feeling the vibrations from his throat with his lips and fingers on his neck.  
  
“Hmm?” York hummed into Delta’s ear before sucking his earlobe into his mouth.  
  
“Hard drive,” Delta sighed, his breath ghosting along the scars on York’s face.  
  
“Mm,” York agreed, distracted by trying to kiss along Delta’s jaw. Then, when the words actually got through to him, “Oh.” He peeled himself off of his partner, putting his hands on either side of his head, and looked down at his face: parted, glossy lips, pink cheeks, half-closed eyes, adorably mussed hair.

\--

But even though he was probably more than a little bit distracted, Delta was putting up a show of being single-minded as he unclenched his hands from York’s shirt and propped himself up on the desk. “We do not have much time,” he said, his voice coming out breathy. “The lock is connected to the hard drive in some manner, and if I do not recover the information soon, it will be locked.”  
  
“I’m sorry, Dee.” It came out of his mouth without a second thought. “I shouldn’t have –“  
  
Then Delta’s lips were on his, pressing chastely for a few seconds and pushing him backwards even before a soft shove forced him away. He touched his lips gently as he stared at Delta, who by now was calmly taking his seat behind the counselor’s desk and turning on his computer. The closest translation York had for that behavior was that Delta didn’t want him to waste his breath on apologizing when he could be helping Delta with his work. He shook his head in wonder. One of these days, hopefully soon, he might be able to convince Delta to turn off that analytical side of his mind completely instead of just putting it on hold.  
  
Once the computer was on, Delta was hooking up his own external drive and typing away. York knew he should let his partner concentrate, but he was going to feel awful just standing there and watching. “What can I do to help?”  
  
“There is a high probability that there will be physical evidence in this room,” Delta pointed out.  
  
“Right.” There were five filing cabinets here, with locks on every drawer, but York had learned his way around these when he was half Delta’s age. In no time, every drawer was open, and he was flicking through folders as fast as his eyes could read. Of course, with the low light in the room and his bad left eye, his vision started fading after only a few minutes. “Finding anything?”  
  
“Are you going to break me?”  
  
It was such an apparent non-sequitur that it took York a few seconds to realize what Delta was talking about. “I was talking about a  _lock_ , Dee.”  
  
“And we also discussed a metaphor in which I was the lock.”  
  
“Oh.” That  _had_  been a pretty callous thing he had said, if that’s what Delta had been thinking – no wonder he had panicked a little when he had tried to melee the lock. “Listen, I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t even  _thinking_  about that.”  
  
“It appears that Epsilon was mildly traumatized by his first interactions with Agent Washington. One could say that the encounter broke him,” he said, leaning closer and squinting as he hastily scrolled through a document.  
  
York closed the stuffed manila folder he had been reading through, the one with the E emblazoned on the front, and slipped it into Delta’s sack before surprising his partner with a hug around the shoulders. “I’m going to tell you this as many times as I have to, until you start believing me.  _I am not Agent Washington._  I want you to get your memories back, but I want you to get them back on your own terms.”  
  
“I can have your word that you will not coerce me?”  
  
He spun Delta in the computer chair so he could make sure he was looking into his partner’s eyes as he said this. “I promise. This is about  _you_ , not me.” It was hard to tell, but in the dim light of the room, it almost looked like Delta’s eyes were glassy. He kissed him on the forehead, and when he pulled away, Delta had blinked, making a line on his face that reflected the light from the computer monitor.

\--

Unfortunately, this tender moment, like any other they had in the field, was cut short by the startling sound of a gun firing. “Alarm: threat level raised,” Delta said, almost mechanically.  
  
“How far away was that?” York took out his rifle, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it on another agent or a member of the corps tonight.  
  
“Two hundred to three hundred feet. It most likely originated in the dormitories.” For his part, Delta was quickly transferring the documents he needed from the counselor’s computer onto his own hard drive.  
  
“Probably just somebody having an accidental misfire while they were cleaning their gun.” But even as it came out of his mouth, York didn’t believe what he was saying. Everyone in this program knew how to use a gun and knew how to clean it correctly; it couldn’t have been a mistake. So either the corps was interfering in one of Tex and Omega’s domestic disputes (again), or it was actually Tex and Omega, each one threatening the other to back down.  
  
Whatever the case, they both knew it wasn’t safe for them here any longer. No sooner had Delta shut down the counselor’s computer than both of them had their eyes to their gun sights, edging towards the door and trying not to make any noise as they tried to evaluate the situation outside the room.  
  
Another unexpected shot made York jump, and he almost laughed at himself before realizing that someone out there could be seriously hurt by the gunfire. As it was, though, their own hallway was silent, and the two of them slipped out of the room, making no noise except for the sound of the heavy door slamming shut again.  
  
Once they were at the end of the hallway connecting the administration’s offices to the dormitory rooms, York and Delta caught each other’s gaze, then nodded to each other, both putting away their weapons so as not to draw unnecessary attention.  
  
Thankfully, no one seemed to pay attention to them. The one Freelancer corps member they saw was frantically darting for the stairwell, and she ducked inside before she could see that he and Delta were armed. There seemed to be something happening on the second floor, but whatever the party was, York was sure he and his partner hadn’t been invited. He still couldn’t breathe easy until he and Delta were back in the room they shared. “Do you think the counselor will notice we were there?”  
  
“It is unlikely. However, I will delete all instances of my access to be sure we will not be caught.”  
  
York was still vaguely unsettled by the shots he had heard, especially given that there was now shouting coming from directly above their room. “You do that. I’m heading back out. I need to know what’s going on upstairs.”  
  
“Be careful,” Delta said, sounding distracted by his work.  
  
It was still the first time he had said anything like that to York. “I will.”  
  
Then it was him who was running down the hall and flying up the stairs, but as he opened the door to the second floor, what greeted him was chaos. There was a group congregating around the hallway in front of Wash’s room, at least two medics in their purple scrubs among the white turtlenecks and trousers of the corps, and disconcertingly, all of their clothing seemed somehow stained with blood. “Excuse me,” he said, quietly at first to get someone’s attention, then again, louder. “Excuse me! Can someone please tell me what happened here?”  
  
The group grew silent and turned towards him. Evidently, none of them quite knew what to say. Then, a brave member of the corps, the woman he had seen running up the staircase, broke the news. “Epsilon is dead. He committed suicide.”


	10. 26 + 27 + 28

York just stood there for a few moments, the words echoing impossibly in his head. There was so much blood on their clothes that it wasn’t an option not to believe them. The medics in the crowd turned away and made their way back to their wing of the facilities, and York blinked slowly as he watched them go. He felt like he was underwater. “Where’s Wash?” He must not have been there, if Epsilon had done that…  
  
“Taken into custody,” the woman explained. There was blood on her sleeves. “They want to question him.”  
  
“What – he – I don’t…” There was a sentence in there somewhere that he couldn’t get out.  
  
“Agent New York.” Her voice was warm but stern. “Please. We need to examine the scene for evidence. You don’t need to be here.”  
  
His eyes couldn’t quite focus, no matter how much blinking he did. He stared at her for a few moments, then nodded. There was nothing he could do now.  
  
Going back downstairs was a surreal experience. He felt like a ghost, a revenant haunting these too-familiar hallways, his mind somewhere completely different from his body. Even Delta seemed to pick up on his mood when he walked in, showing his alarm when he asked him “What happened?”  
  
He couldn’t manage to find the words to answer before he sat on his bed heavily, letting his head drop into his hand, avoiding the left side of his face. “Delta, can you… can you just do me a favor?”  
  
“I’m here to assist.” He said it so readily, so warmly, and York knew that he understood, at least a little.  
  
“Just… come here,” he said, trying not to choke. “Sit down, here.” He patted the bed next to him, still trying to hide his face.  
  
Delta did him one better. Instead of sitting with his normal perfect posture, he leaned into York’s side, taking his hand from the bed and placing it back on his knee, covering it with his own.  
  
He didn’t ask any questions, and it was a blessing. York gripped Delta’s hand, almost too hard, before reaching up to pat his hair awkwardly. He could already feel his eyes stinging when he pulled Delta closer, cradling his head against his chest, breathing in the soft smell of his hair to calm himself down. He wouldn’t let it happen to Delta. He couldn’t even bear to know that it had happened to Epsilon, especially when he could have done something about it.  
  
“It was Epsilon,” Delta said quietly into the hush of the room. It wasn’t a question.  
  
“Yes.” He should have known that Delta would deduce that on his own, whatever his methods were. Sometimes, he could swear that the Greek-lettered agents had some kind of telepathy.  
  
“And Agent Washington?”  
  
“Taken into custody.” He could barely force the words out. He clutched onto Delta tighter, never wanting to let go. He would do  _anything_  to keep this from happening to the two of them.  
  
Delta’s arm wrapped around his lower back, reciprocating the fierce hold York had on him. “Do you understand why I am afraid?”  
  
“I’m afraid too, now.” He knew Epsilon had been driven half-mad by the combination of his memories and Wash’s influence, but he had never thought the kid would kill himself over it. “He was only sixteen, Dee,” he said, voice shaking.  
  
“They took me when I was fifteen.”  
  
“That doesn’t make it right.” The scars on his face hurt, and his left eye was paining him horribly. “He  _killed himself_ ,” he tried saying, but even repeating it didn’t help him make sense of it.

\--

“No, York,” Delta corrected him gently.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘no’? That’s what they told me.” He wished he could forget the blood on their clothes, the smell of it in the hallway, the mood of the group he had seen in front of Wash and Epsilon’s room.  
  
“We heard the first shot as you reassured me of your intentions,” Delta pointed out, his voice growing more detached with each word. “The second shot followed, roughly two minutes later.”  
  
“What are you saying, Dee?” He didn’t want to believe he was really hearing this out of his teammate, and he let his hold slacken so he could look into his face, see his expression as he explained.  
  
“Regardless of who fired the first shot, Agent Washington fired the second.”  
  
“No.” But there was a sick earnestness in Delta’s eyes that let him know that it was the truth.  
  
“The most probable scenario is that Epsilon avoided Agent Washington after our encounter with him at the shooting range. Once Agent Washington managed to find him, there would have been a confrontation in their dormitory room. Epsilon would have let him know that we conversed with him, and most likely would have let him know your implications.” Even as Delta explained it all, the situation was playing itself out in York’s mind, the imagery abnormally clear to him. “At some point, overwhelmed and stressed, new memories must have unveiled themselves to him, at which point he shot himself in the head.”  
  
“Delta,” York said, shocked at the clinical explanation he was receiving.  
  
He took it as a sign that he needed to explain even further. “At the shooting range, his wording was ‘I wish I could forget.’ Mistaking death for forgetfulness, he attempted suicide.” Delta buried his head in York’s shoulder, hiding his face, and when York’s arm came around his back again, he could feel his partner’s full-body trembling.  
  
“Delta,” he said again, hoping this would be the end of it.  
  
It wasn’t. “Epsilon was young and impatient. Most likely, his first attempt failed to kill him, instead causing damage to the back of his throat. And so, when it became clear to Agent Washington that Epsilon would not be dying peacefully –“  
  
He felt vaguely ill. “Delta!” Finally, his partner stopped talking. “Delta, please. Not now. I… I didn’t need to know that.”  
  
“On the contrary. With more data comes a greater ability to predict what will happen in our scenario.”  
  
“It’s disrespectful to the dead,” he spat out, and Delta seemed to shrink away from him.  
  
Mercifully, Delta fell silent for a long time. As the moments passed, his body pressed closer to York’s, and all York could concentrate on was the gentle rise and fall of his partner’s chest as he breathed. Then, after a particularly shuddering sigh, Delta spoke again, his voice small, sounding humiliated. “I apologize. I did not realize how inappropriate my comments were for this situation. I resolve to treat… death… with more reverence in the future.”  
  
York sighed, just holding Delta closer to him, trying not to lose his composure. “It’s okay, Dee. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. We all react differently to things like this – it’s just what makes us human.”  
  
“Ah.” Sounded like something had finally clicked in his head. “I was not looking at it from a flawed perspective.”  
  
Flawed? Understanding that people had nuances to their character was flawed? “Well, it sure would make these conversations easier.” At least he seemed to be letting go of his perfectionist nature and resolving to change. Maybe one of these days, York really would be able to get him to turn his brain off, even if only for a short while. “Thanks for coming down to my level, Dee.”

\--

Sometimes, Delta had the grand gift of silence, and right now, York was intensely appreciative. He knew what Delta was thinking about, his beautiful mind deconstructing everything that had happened today to lead to York’s abrupt announcement, and York followed behind as best he could, his recollections sticking somewhere in the shooting range. “I could have done something,” he muttered into Delta’s hair, clutching onto him harder.  
  
“Epsilon’s sanity was well outside acceptable deviations before our encounter with him today,” Delta said, his voice quiet, reassuring.  
  
He knew Delta was right, but it didn’t make him feel any better about it. He kissed him on the top of the head, soft hair tickling the scars on his face. A few breaths later, and he was lost in thought again, his mind drifting to war, to torture, to experiments, to children and their fears, to whatever Epsilon remembered that would have made him do something like that. “You know, I’ve seen some bad things,” he told his partner. “I’ve seen my teammates get shot down by insurgents, and I’ve seen bombings in civilian centers, and I’ve lost people. But this… this is one of the worst.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Whoever did this to you guys…” He sighed; he didn’t want to have to explain how wrong this was to someone who had gone through it all. “They kidnapped a nine-year-old child, tortured him until they turned him into a soldier, assigned him to an agent when he was sixteen in the hopes that they would start a sexual relationship, and then left him alone with all those memories. Please,” and he was surprised to find his voice quavering, “please tell me you understand how completely fucked up that is.”  
  
Delta was silent for a few seconds. Then, York could feel him nodding against his chest. “Yes,” he whispered.  
  
He didn’t realize his right eye had been watering until he blinked and the tear was already gone, dropping into Delta’s hair. If the kid noticed, he didn’t let on, still pressing his ear to York’s heart. “I would have treated him better than Wash did. Please, please tell me I treat you better than that.”  
  
“You do.” He didn’t hesitate in answering this time. “You are respectful of my boundaries and you care about my well-being.”  
  
York took another deep breath, trying to steady his emotions again. “Please, whatever happens… if you feel like you’re going to do something… drastic… come to me first. Promise me that.”  
  
“Committing suicide is seldom a rational choice, York,” he pointed out. “I have every reason to continue living, I promise you.” And the way he pressed himself that much closer made York realize that maybe, just maybe, the two of them could make it out of this mess together.  
  
After ten more minutes, York was sure that Delta had fallen asleep on him. They had been sitting in comfortable silence, his partner pressed so close to him that every breath and heartbeat felt like his own. Delta’s breathing was so regular, his exhalations so long, and York was about to move him onto his own bed when he suddenly said “Tomorrow.”  
  
York looked down at him. “What about tomorrow?”  
  
Delta shifted so that he could look up into York’s face. Even though his eyes were half-closed from sleepiness, they still caught York by surprise. “I would like to be able to access my own memories tomorrow. Epsilon is no longer available to me as a source, and…” He trailed off, looking away, seeming uncertain.  
  
“And what?” York prompted him.  
  
“And I would enjoy beginning a relationship of that caliber with you. Will you be willing to assist me?”  
  
For a moment, York forgot to breathe. Then, he smiled, a genuine one that hurt the left side of his face. “Of course, Dee. Anything you need.”


	11. 29

“And you’re absolutely sure about this?” York yelled over the sound of the water splashing in the sink.  
  
“Yes,” Delta called back to him.  
  
“You’re positive? Not going to change your mind?” The knobs were squeaky when he turned the water off, and he cupped a handful and splashed his face. He hated this part of his day. Looking in a mirror was like his own worst nightmare.  
  
“York, my expectation was that you would welcome this development in our relationship.” Did Delta actually sound wry? He could hear his partner changing clothes, and his imagination almost got the better of him.  
  
“I just can’t believe there’s any way you’d want me.” Standing here, shirtless, inspecting himself in the mirror, he could see everything that was wrong with his body. Every single scar stood out in perverse detail under the vanity light; the ones on his chest and arms had faded into near-obscurity, but the ones on his face still looked like a deep gouge, the damaged eye clouded and obscured. Before his profession had caught up to him, he might have been called handsome, if unconventionally so, but now, his hooked nose and sharp chin just served to further disfigure him. He was convinced that there was no way anyone could find him attractive now. He dried his face and drained the water from the sink, ready to collapse into bed.  
  
“Why would I not?” Delta was perched on the edge of his own bed, shirtless but wearing his standard-issue sweats. This was the first time York had ever seen him so naked, and he swore the kid was just trying to tease him at this point, his skin so pale and inviting, nipples a blushing pink, hairless except for a hint of blond leading to the waistband of his pants.  
  
York had to blink a few times to clear his head and get his train of thought back on track. “Look at me, Dee. I’m not exactly as pretty as you are.”  
  
“You are underestimating other qualities that I find far more attractive.”  
  
“Like what?” York crossed his arms and sat on his own bed.  
  
“Your kindness,” he said. “And your pride, which is why I will truncate the list here.”  
  
“Touché.” He grinned back before switching out the last light in the room. “Why tomorrow, though?”  
  
“We present our report on the contents of the database on Monday. Should I recover my memories tomorrow, I will have a more accurate perspective on its contents.”  
  
York sighed as he wriggled under his blankets; he didn’t seem to be able to get more comfortable. “And here I was, thinking it might be because you just couldn’t wait for me to have my hands all over you again.”  
  
“I did not say it was the only reason.” And even though the room was dark, York could practically hear the small smile coming from Delta’s bed.  
  
And he realized why he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight. “Hey, Dee. Come here.”  
  
It only took a moment for him to be kneeling at York’s bedside, whatever light not blocked out by the curtains reflecting in his eyes. “What is it that you need?”  
  
He couldn’t think of a good way of admitting it. “I… need you to monitor me while I sleep. There’s a good chance that I’ll…” He sighed; this was embarrassing. “That I’ll have a night terror.”  
  
Delta sat back on his heels. “I understand.”  
  
But he didn’t grasp York’s full meaning. “No, I meant… can you just come up here, next to me, and wake me up if I hit you or flail or yell?”  
  
“Ah.” And then, without York having to tell him what to do, he slipped into his bed and folded his body in, leaning his naked back against York’s shirtless chest and molding his legs to fit.  
  
York snaked an arm around his waist, expecting him to flinch, but Delta actually reached down and molded his arm against him there, too. “Thank you, Dee.” The other thing he wouldn’t admit was far more intimate than night terrors; he just wanted the simple pleasure of holding his partner while he slept, and he knew that feeling another body up against his would help wash out the dead, chilled feeling he still had from hearing the news about Epsilon. And, breathing in the soft scent of Delta’s hair, it wasn’t long before he was too tired to hold his eyes open.


	12. 30

York woke three times in the night.  
  
He had been dreaming grotesque things, calling up memories of the bodies of long-dead comrades lined up on the streets, a priest going down the line and saying a few words before closing each one’s eyes out of respect. He remembered the smell of lingering explosives, of blood and guts and marrow, of powder. But most of all, he remembered the fear, the dead feeling he himself had, the conviction that he was next to die, that he would have words spoken over him and his eyes closed to the world.  
  
He must have been screaming, because he woke to Delta straddling him around the waist, Delta’s hand clamped over his mouth, fingertips falling into the deep scars on his face. Those wide eyes were staring at him, angry and concerned, and he kept his hand to York’s mouth as he reached down to check York’s pulse at his neck. “Night terror?” he asked, his voice clinical.  
  
York just nodded against Delta’s hand, still breathing hard, fighting the raw adrenalin from the fear still running through his system. He tried to concentrate on something, anything else – like the way Delta’s hands were soothingly cool on his face and neck, or the way Delta’s body seemed so right straddling him like this.  
  
Then Delta removed his hands and fell off to his side again, snuggling up against him. “It should pass,” he announced, holding York’s arm as he closed his eyes.  
  
The second time he woke up, Delta must have kicked him in the shin, because it hurt badly. But when he looked over, his partner was soundly sleeping, mouth open and eyes gently closed, hair rumpled beyond all belief. It was adorable and intimate, and York was convinced he could wake up to this at any time and be completely and perfectly content with his life, but alas, sleep called to him again and he was sucked into his dreams again.  
  
His nightmares just managed to get worse as the night went on. He was having a confrontation with Delta, an argument where, surprisingly, he was winning and Delta was losing. He wanted to stop himself from saying anything to hurt him, but no matter what he said, it only seemed to make things worse. Delta started threatening him with a gun; then, York stood by in mute horror as Delta put his mouth on the muzzle, swallowing the pistol and making it point upwards at his skull. York knew what came next, and he didn’t want to see it, but it happened, and he watched, helpless, as a shot rang out and a mutilated Delta slumped to the floor.  
  
He woke this time to the sound of his own name. “York, wake up…” Delta sounded desperate, worried for his safety.  
  
It took York a moment to realize that the room around him was dark, that he was holding Delta in his arms, that this was real instead of being a dream itself. “Oh, God, Delta…” He reached out a trembling hand to touch his face, tracing a line from forehead to jaw, and then he was pulling him closer, not even bothering to restrain his grief as he sobbed into Delta’s hair. Delta didn’t even have to say anything; it was the brief touches, now on his forearm, now on his shoulder, now tracing a line down his abs, that calmed him down. Once the fit passed, he sniffled a few times, letting Delta catch his breath out of his tight hold. He kissed him once, gently, not daring to stop until he slumped back, exhausted, and hoped that he could sleep through until morning.  
  
He did, but he woke up alone. The shower was running and the sun was shining through the curtains, and York was in bed, wishing he had Delta there to tell him that his dreams were nothing more than a hallucination.


	13. 31 + 32 + 33

Not five minutes passed before Delta was walking out of the bathroom, a towel around his waist, ruffling another one through his hair. “Good morning,” he said to York through a yawn, turning the computer on.  
  
“Morning yourself,” he groaned, crawling out of bed. “Checking B-Net?” Delta was one for habits, and every Sunday morning, without fail, he would log on to the Freelancer intranet to check for rankings, updates, and statistics that he and York could use to improve themselves.  
  
“Of course,” he said, smiling slightly before concentrating on his pages. His hair, darker now that it was wet, was still sticking up in all sorts of directions. The smell of Delta’s soap and shampoo filled the room, and there were still droplets on the kid’s back that York was desperate to lick away.  
  
He needed his own shower, though, if today was really going to be the day. As he washed, his mind was racing with the thrill of so much possibility in front of him, so many things he’d wanted to do with Delta, so many emotions he’d wanted to show him but never found the chance to. He was going to make this good, and he was going to make this right, even if it took all day.  
  
“So, what’s the update?” he asked a few minutes later as he toweled himself off and started dressing.  
  
“Agent Washington has been certified Article Twelve and has been removed from the Project Freelancer base,” Delta announced.  
  
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Delta never joked around, though. “Article Twelve? That’s – that’s Unfit for Duty, isn’t it?” He looked over Delta’s shoulder, and there the news announcement was, in bold, unmistakable text. “Where are they taking him?”  
  
“The institution is not listed, but I suspect it is a mental facility.”  
  
York just gaped at his partner. “They think he’s insane?”  
  
“His level of sanity has always been close to the edge of what is generally considered acceptable,” Delta reminded him. It still sent a chill up York’s spine.  
  
He tried to change the subject; he didn’t want to think about last night’s incident. “Did you check our rankings, at least?”  
  
“Yes. They remain unchanged. Agents Texas and Omega are still at the top of the leaderboard, with Agents Wyoming and Gamma in second place.”  
  
“Third place is just gonna have to be good enough for us.” This was their highest placement, but the leaderboard hadn’t changed since they first settled three weeks ago. Once he was fully dressed, York grabbed Delta’s bag and slung it over his shoulder. “I’m going to, uh, get breakfast for us. Don’t stay on BattleNet too long.”  
  
Delta made some general noise of assent, but York was already out the door, planning his next break-in. Today’s mission was the medical ward. It wasn’t that difficult normally, but today it would probably be easier than normal: the medics’ attention would already be diverted from his presence, and he didn’t want to pause too long to think on why that was. He slipped into the wing easily, and entering the supply cabinet wasn’t much harder. A box of these, a bottle – make that two – of that, and he was sneaking out again, bag a little heavier but still unnoticed by the medics.  
  
Breakfast this morning was going to be protein bars; the cafeteria wasn’t open this early on Sundays, and York didn’t have the patience to sit down with his usual plate of eggs on a day like today. He started munching on his before he returned to his room, but as he approached, he could hear some very loud noises from inside.  
  
When he opened the door, Delta was finally clothed and staring, transfixed, at the computer. “Dee?” he asked, trying to get his attention.  
  
Then he realized, and at the same time, Delta turned to face him, eyes wide, the sounds of some very sexy moans filling the room. If it hadn’t been such a tense moment, York was sure that he would have found their unified shout of  _“What are you doing?”_  to be extremely funny.

\--

Delta looked indignant and embarrassed all at once, a dark flush spreading across his face. “I was doing research. For scientific purposes. Anatomy –“  
  
“How did you manage to jump off of BattleNet and onto the internet?” York yelled over both his partner and the noise still coming from the computer.  
  
“Firewalls – safety protocols – I managed to bridge the –“  
  
“And you decided to  _surf for porn_  the minute I left the room?”  
  
“By my calculations, I approximated that you would not be returning for another half-hour while you ate, so I-“  
  
The noise was still going on in the background, and York couldn’t take it any more. “Would you just  _turn the damn thing off_ , please?” The room fell silent. He stared at Delta. Delta stared back, somehow both angry and ashamed. Then York put his hand to his face, massaging his temples between thumb and forefinger. “Look, Dee, I’m sorry I yelled at you, I was just… startled.”  
  
“I apologize for my behavior. It was unprofessional.” When York brought his hand down from his face, he saw that Delta’s anger had melted away, leaving only embarrassment behind.  
  
“No, Dee, it’s okay – I told you, I just got startled, that’s all.” He put the bag down on the floor so he could turn up Delta’s chin, make the kid look in his face and see that he was telling the truth. “Now here. Eat this,” he said, sitting on his bed and tossing his partner a protein bar. “We’re gonna be burning a lot of calories today and I won’t have you passing out on me while we do this.”  
  
Delta unwrapped his delicately, taking a slow bite and chewing, not talking again until he had swallowed. “What were you doing instead of eating?”  
  
York, on the other hand, didn’t have a problem with talking with his mouth full. “Schtealing.”  
  
Delta didn’t blink, just raised an eyebrow. “What did you steal?”  
  
“Condomsch and lube.” He swallowed his bite of food. “Don’t look at me like that, they’re free anyway.”  
  
“Which is precisely my point: there was no need to steal them when they are freely accessible.”  
  
“I’d rather keep my, ah,  _affairs_  private, Dee.” He took another bite of his breakfast. “Pleasche tell me you did other reschearch beschidesch watching porn.”  
  
“Talking in that manner is uncivilized, York.”  
  
“I won’t schtop until you anschwer my queschtion,” he teased, grinning as he chewed with his mouth open.  
  
Delta winced, then sighed once it became apparent that York was prepared to torment him indefinitely. “Yes. I am able to perform even the most cursory safe search.” His tone sounded hurt.  
  
“Good. I mean, porn’s okay and all,” and he made sure to actually swallow his next bite before he continued, “but that’s not how things work in real life. You understand that, right?”  
  
Delta finished his protein bar and set aside the wrapper. “I am unsure what you mean by ‘real life.’ The physics seemed plausible enough.”  
  
“I don’t mean physically – although there’s too many quick cuts. You’d think everyone in the porn universe had a magically self-lubricating ass.” He ate his last bite of breakfast, studying Delta’s face and watching the reactions subtly change. “There’s a lot of emotions that can come up during sex, and I just want you to be sure that you’re going to be able to handle everything.”  
  
He kept eye contact, challenging Delta to think it through, but once his partner let his mouth show the smallest smile, York knew he had nothing to worry about. “I consented to this with the expectation that it would unlock some of my untapped emotional potential. I would consider it nothing less than a failure if I did not connect with you in that sense.”

\--

“C’mere,” York said gently, making a waving motion with his hand. Delta pushed his computer chair closer to the bed, straddling the back, but didn’t make a motion to touch him. “I know you’re probably scared, but you have to trust me. I know what I’m doing, and I’m not going to let you get hurt.”  
  
“Of course you know what you’re doing,” Delta said, rolling his eyes. “You’re  _experienced_.”  
  
“You sound…” What was the word he was looking for? “Jealous.”  
  
“How many partners have you had?”  
  
He hadn’t expected that question today, but it didn’t surprise him that Delta was asking. He settled for the second-best answer he could give. “I’m clean. No worries about that.”  
  
“I know your medical history. I am asking about your sexual history.”  
  
York smacked his palm to his forehead again, his elbow grinding in his knee. “Please, Dee, don’t make a big deal out of this.”  
  
“I am merely curious. I do not intend to pass judgment.”  
  
It was hard to read his tone, but York knew Delta wouldn’t lie to him about this. He sighed, trying to stave off the reveal, but it only served to make the silence feel more awkward. “Three,” he finally spat out, not daring to look at Delta while he said it. “The last two were guys, and the other one was my wife, so don’t –“  
  
It was Delta this time that reached out to grasp his chin, forcing their eyes to meet before kissing him lightly. When he pulled back, there was not a hint of judgment in Delta’s eyes. “I apologize. I should not have forced that confession.”  
  
“No. You shouldn’t have.” It brought up some painful memories, things York had hoped he wouldn’t have to think about today when he would be enjoying himself with Delta.  
  
The kid still looked nervous. “I am… merely afraid that you will compare me.”  
  
“Compare you?” He smiled. “That’s what you were afraid of? How could I?” He reached out and laid his hand on Delta’s knee, sliding it up as he talked. “My mind’s been on you since the moment we met. You’re – you’re you. I can’t compare you.”  
  
They kissed again, long, slow, chaste, before Delta pulled back, eyes wide. “If something happens…”  
  
York knew he wouldn’t be able to finish that sentence, so he extrapolated from there. “If something happens today that you’re not comfortable with, or if anything I’m doing is hurting you, or if you want to call a time-out, or if you don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself – whatever’s wrong – say my name. My real name. If you really did see my medical records, you would have seen it there. Don’t say it now,” he chuckled as Delta opened his mouth, and he kissed him again to make sure it shut again.  
  
Delta didn’t pull back until a few minutes and a slip of tongue later, looking entranced and apprehensive at once. “Please be gentle,” he whispered as he pressed his cheek to York’s.  
  
“I know you won’t believe this at first, but it’s true: you’re in control today. This is about you.” He kissed his cheek, then reached out both hands to hold his face. “You still look nervous. Talk to me, Dee.”  
  
He looked distracted. “Sexual intercourse has killed before.”  
  
York knew he should be taking Delta seriously, but he couldn’t help a short laugh. “You’re not going to die today. I promise.”  
  
Delta just gave him a dirty look. “Do you know what the human body goes through during intercourse?” He started listing symptoms. “Pupils dilate, arteries constrict, core temperature rises, heart races, blood pressure skyrockets, respiration becomes rapid and shallow, the brain fires bursts of electrical impulse from nowhere to nowhere, secretions come out of every gland, muscles tense and spasm uncontrollably.”  
  
York just smiled, brushing the hair from Delta’s forehead and watching his eyes close at the subtle sensation. “It’s also supposed to be  _fun_. Don’t take it too seriously.”  
  
“I apologize for my apprehension,” he whispered, eyes downcast.  
  
“It’s okay.” York caught his lips in another fireworks kiss, knowing it would disarm him, stop his brain from going haywire. “You just have to trust me. Do you trust me?”  
  
The smile broadening across Delta’s face could have lit the room. “Of course. I love you.”


	14. 34 + 35 + 36 + 37 + 38 + 39 + 40 + 41 + 42

The sun was bright and hot in their room when Delta kissed him on the mouth again, his hand coming up to brush York’s hair behind his ear, hold the side of his face, trace the line of his jaw. York just held on, hands gripping at Delta’s knees, knowing he wanted more contact. “Come on, Dee,” he whispered, “come here, I want to hold you.”  
  
Delta climbed out of his computer chair awkwardly, kicking it aside as he put a knee on York’s bed, leaning down to kiss him again, and the slight brush of his tongue against York’s lips was enough to make even the stalwartliest of men more than a little lightheaded. The way Delta’s fingertips just skimmed at his neck was a reminder to him – to be patient, to be gentle, to be kind.  
  
It was wonderful, breathing him in so close, and then he was even closer, straddling York’s lap and creeping up until their chests were pressed together. York could feel him breathing as he ran his hands along his sides, his fingers fitting perfectly in the grooves in his ribs. This, this would have been enough for any day, Delta kissing him as bright as a smile and as warm as summer, but then he let his hands slowly skim down lower, lower, until his palms were resting on Delta’s ass.  
  
Oh, that ass. It was perfect. A meaningful squeeze to each cheek and Delta was squeaking into his mouth. “Too much?” he mumbled, worried he’d gone too far too soon.  
  
Delta pulled back for the briefest moment, but he was smiling and shaking his head. Another squeeze and he was yelping again, looking completely enraptured, his mouth open in a joyful smile. “May I touch you, as well?”  
  
“That’s kind of the point, Dee.” But as soon as he gave permission, he had to hiss as a fingertip traced the outline of the gouge still left in the side of his face.  
  
“What is this from?” Delta’s eyes were wide with concern, and his voice sounded tense.  
  
“I got mugged a few years ago. Some ginger kid decided he was going to take me down and he nearly took me out.” He winced as Delta continued to touch it.  
  
Then his hand was drawing away. “Is this unacceptable?”  
  
York sighed. “I just never expected anyone to want to touch my scars.”  
  
“Why not? They deserve to be touched just as much as any other part of you.” He said it so factually, making it clear that he wouldn’t stop.  
  
Just when he thought he couldn’t feel any more love for Delta, he had to go and say that. “Just – be careful.” Another quick kiss, but Delta’s hands weren’t moving. “Go on. I trust you.”  
  
And then Delta’s mouth and hands were on him again, slim fingers drawing a line from neck to shoulders to arms. He let go of Delta for long enough to catch those hands with his own, and Delta clutched onto him, hard, as they slowly explored, breathed each other in, took their time getting to know one another in this new way.  
  
Then those long fingers were slipping from between his, doodling a few abstract patterns on the sensitive skin of his palms before his fingertips slipped between shirt and wrist. The ghosting graze York could feel there was so light he thought he must have been imagining it, so intentional and so erotic that he made a soft noise into Delta’s mouth as he let himself be touched. An unintentional slip of teeth soon turned into more of a tussle, the two of them jokingly snapping at each other until York finally caught Delta’s lip between his teeth, and the little sigh he could just barely hear was reward enough for winning.

\--

Delta grasped at his hands again, holding on as if for dear life. York was trying not to kiss him too hard, but it was difficult to hold back when this was everything he’d dreamed it would be. But it was when Delta pulled back and pressed their foreheads together that his breath truly got taken away, because a pair of shaking hands was pushing up the hem of his shirt and tracing his sides.  
  
Delta’s fingertips seemed to instinctively seek out his scars, and York tried his hardest not to flinch at the contact, but it was difficult. He’d never been touched this meaningfully before. Other lovers had focused on the parts of him that had still been beautiful, but Delta seemed to want to call attention to how broken he was, how much he’d been through. It was enough for York to know that his partner accepted him at face value, didn’t try to navigate around his scars or treat them as much of an issue.  
  
“How did you acquire this?” Delta’s voice was as soft as the touch of his fingertip against another of his scars.  
  
“Emergency appendectomy,” he murmured back, catching his mouth in another kiss.  
  
“And this?” Slightly higher, his fingertip was now covering a raw circle.  
  
“Old bullet wound.” He pulled back, trying to study Delta’s face, but it was as intent as always, the concentrating expression making him look more adorable than ever. “Why’re you asking, Dee? Why do you care so much about my scars?”  
  
“I want to know all about you,” he said simply. “I want to know everything you have experienced, everywhere you have been. Your scars can tell me part of that.” To make his point, he touched his lips gently to the scar on York’s face. “Your body has a story, and I want to dedicate it to memory.”  
  
There was nothing he could say to that. No words would have properly expressed his gratitude, the overwhelming feeling of acceptance subsuming him. So York just smiled, letting himself melt into Delta’s careful touches. His hands skimmed along the skin of his abs; their kisses were soft but heavy with meaning.  
  
His shirt was being pushed up higher, higher, and he knew it must have been an accident but he squirmed when one of Delta’s knuckles brushed against his nipple. “Are you…” Delta started to ask.  
  
York cut him off. “Do it again.” Delta hesitated, and York could tell that his hands were shaking. “I bucked because it felt  _good_ , Dee, now  _do it again_.”  
  
A hesitant palm pressed to his chest, and York could feel his own heart struggling against the pressure as Delta brought his fingers to his nipple again. And even as it was gently pinched in the crux of two of his fingers, Delta leaned down, bracing himself with his other hand around his neck, and  _licked_  there, and York thought his brain might just have liquefied for a few brief moments. He had always known he was sensitive there, but this was  _Delta_  doing this to him, which added a whole new dimension to the sensation.  
  
He couldn’t stop the full-bodied groan he let out, and Delta pulled back, looking both proud of himself and unsure how to continue. York couldn’t help it; that look cried out for a kiss, and he tangled his fingers in Delta’s hair, pulling his head back up so he could slip his tongue back into his mouth. Delta was persistent, though, nudging York’s shirt up further, those light touches now completely deliberate. York had to pause as both of them worked together to push it up over his head and throw it aside, and Delta pushed his now-rumpled hair out of his face before kissing him again, hard.

\--

It wasn’t long before York was pushing up Delta’s own shirt, trying to keep his touch light as he took in all of his partner’s body. His skin was soft, the muscles underneath well-formed, and he found himself wondering what it would taste like, if it would taste like soap or salt or musk. His impatience got the better of him, and he drew back from kissing Delta long enough to push the turtleneck up over his head, letting the clothing fall to the floor.  
  
It wasn’t enough to be pressed chest-to-chest with him. He needed more of Delta, and he needed him now. The kid was so light in his arms that it didn’t take much effort to turn him and push him down into the mattress, and the little cry that Delta let out was good enough to let York know that he was doing something right.  
  
He let his mouth wander, teeth tracing the line of his jaw before he licked at his neck. Delta was trembling, but not out of fear; York knew that feeling, the delicious tension building in his body, because his own hands were shaking in perfect counterpoint as he smoothed over Delta’s arms. Pinning his wrists above his head was only too simple. Delta was submissive under him, surrendering to the sensations, his noises subtly changing as York’s mouth traveled down lower, lower. York couldn’t help the laugh he let out against Delta’s stomach at how fun this was turning out to be, and Delta’s hands snapped free of his grip to come down and tangle in his hair.  
  
He knew what Delta wanted, and he didn’t hesitate in crawling back up his body so he could kiss him on the mouth again. He tried to be careful with his weight, but the feel of skin against skin was so tantalizing. The hands clutching in his hair were insistent, and he could feel the same insistence when he brought his thigh up between Delta’s legs and moved their hips together.  
  
When he reached down a hand to cup around the bulge, Delta lost it, holding onto his neck and burying his head in York’s shoulder as he bucked up to meet the sensation. Some things must be instinctual, York thought, because Delta seemed to know how to feel, how to react, and he was keeping his composure better than he had expected.  
  
He rubbed his hand against Delta for a few moments before he knew he had to take things further. “Can I…” he began to ask, then faltered.  
  
“Yes,” Delta sighed, his breath warm against York’s chest.  
  
His fingers fumbled at the catch to Delta’s trousers, the same fingers that were so precise when he was picking locks, and he chuckled at his own clumsiness, awkwardly aware of how overeager he was being right now. Once his fly was down, he didn’t waste any time in reaching in, just one more layer of cloth separating him from touching Delta like he meant it. Together, they worked the trousers down his legs, Delta kicking them to the floor.  
  
Touches, hidden Morse code and Fibonacci sequences, patterns traced on flushed skin, and somehow in the next few minutes York lost his trousers as well. Bare legs tangled with bare legs, and he held Delta as close as he could, wishing that he could crawl inside his skin and never have to leave. He didn’t know exactly what he was doing to make Delta arch up like that against him, but as he drew his fingers across the small of his back again, he got the same reaction. “Feel good?” he asked against his mouth.  
  
“Yes,” a gasp that York easily swallowed.  
  
And he was almost ashamed to ask, trying to concentrate more on Delta’s pleasure than his own, but he needed to know that Delta was still here mentally, could still reciprocate, could give what he was getting. “Touch me?”

\--

Delta was still clutching onto him, one arm around his shoulders, his grip so hard it was probably bruising, forehead still in the crook of York’s shoulder and his neck. His other hand, hesitant, shaking, made its way down his front, stopping here and there to dawdle or pay close attention before following the trail of hair down to the waistband of York’s briefs. “What do you require?” he asked, his diction still formal even though his voice was breathy and low.  
  
“Do whatever you want.” He kissed Delta’s shoulder. “We have all day, you know.”  
  
But even though he had granted permission, he still didn’t believe Delta could be so bold until those slim fingers slipped underneath the band, searching through coarse hair before grasping at York’s half-hard cock. He couldn’t stop the heady sound coming from his throat, his eyes rolling back in his skull, and Delta shied away, the warmth of his hand hovering somewhere close to his sensitive flesh. “Is this…”  
  
“ _Please_ ,” he moaned, pushing his hips forward to nudge against Delta’s hand.  
  
The fingers closed around him again, slow strokes just on this end of teasing, and York could feel himself relaxing into the rhythm of it before Delta stopped again. “No. This cannot…”  
  
“What can’t what?”  
  
Delta pulled back to look up at him, green eyes wide with fear. “I understand the mechanics, but it does not seem physically possible that this should be able to – fit –“  
  
York just chuckled. “You’d be surprised. I think you’ll be able to handle it.”  
  
“How could I possibly –“  
  
York shut him up with a kiss, then brushed the hair from Delta’s forehead. “Think of it like our locks and keys metaphor. It’s like a key, only when I put it inside you it’s going to unlock your virginity. And your memories, with any luck.”  
  
“But –“  
  
Another kiss, but Delta’s eyes were still afraid when he pulled back again. “Do you trust me?” And Delta nodded slowly, still not breaking eye contact. “I know you might not believe me now, but I will make this feel good for you.”  
  
And to prove it, he let his own hand come down into Delta’s briefs to mirror the hand that was curled around his own cock. The skin was petal-soft over throbbing flesh, and the sound Delta let out at the sensation was too beautiful to have been put to words. Their hands moved in tandem, slow movements stopping and starting and teasing, each following the other’s lead as they gasped and moaned between sensuous kisses.  
  
It wasn’t enough; York pushed down Delta’s briefs so he could reach for more, get a better handle, and in short order they were both naked, skin glowing with sunlight. Delta was shivering beneath him again, and he kissed his flushed neck as his hand continued to work on him. “It’s okay,” he reassured his partner. “You can be vulnerable around me. I won’t hurt you.”  
  
And he could tell, from the set of his shoulders, that Delta had just let go of a little of his apprehension, the open O of his mouth betraying how much he was giving in to feeling. York wanted to explore further, though, now that Delta was more comfortable, and he let his hand drift lower, smoothing along Delta’s thigh before coming back up to cup his sac, push past it to press at his perineum, before finally reaching his goal.  
  
Delta reacted violently to the simple touch of York’s fingertip against his hole, and York felt so much sympathy at that moment – he remembered what it felt like to be so exposed. “Shh,” he whispered against his neck. “Turn over. There’s something I can do.”

\--

To his credit, Delta didn’t question him, just unhooked his legs and rolled over onto his stomach. Oh, God, the back view was just as nice as the front, the muscles in Delta’s back working under his skin, the globes of his ass looking far too inviting. York ran his hands up his sides, trying to sap the tension from Delta’s body. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, watching the way his fists were already clenching in the sheets.  
  
He knew he had to be careful; too much too fast, and he could push Delta away. So he started slowly, dragging his lips along his shoulder, drawing the shape of wings on his back with light touches, taking in the smell of his hair before kissing the back of his neck. His mouth left a wet trail down Delta’s spine, and his partner was squirming beneath him, but not to get away; he was pressing himself closer, reluctant to give up the small bit of contact they had right now.  
  
After far too long, York was finally in a place where he could do what he wanted. Both his hands came up to grab those two perfect asscheeks, and he couldn’t resist a playful scrape of his teeth against one of them before he eased them apart, kissing his way closer and closer to his goal. Delta was tensing up again, breath coming faster, and when York pulled back for a moment he could see the kid was biting one of his own fingers trying not to make a noise. So he wanted to make a game out of it? York grinned; it was a game he was going to lose.  
  
He took in a deep breath before bringing his mouth back down; Delta smelled fresh, clean, and when he finally touched his tongue to his perineum, the bitterness of soap was all he could taste. One long lick and Delta was already reduced to shivering; a slurp and he was moaning; more wriggling and he was practically howling. York didn’t let up, the thought of how red his partner’s face must have been driving him to try harder.  
  
Delta had been so tense at the first touch of his mouth down there. Now, as the minutes wore on, his front of nervousness was faltering, and York could feel him giving in to the sensations. He pulled back for a minute, trying to catch his breath, the left half of his face burning from exertion, but Delta whined, a hand coming back to clutch at one of York’s that was still holding his cheeks open. It was his turn to whimper “Please,” and his eyes were so bright with arousal that York felt bad for having to stop.  
  
“What do you want?” he asked, voice husky.  
  
“More,” Delta admitted, his face lighting up in a flush.  
  
York just grinned, the smile hurting his face. “Just give me a minute. Stay put.” He knew he should have put the lube and condoms on the nightstand before this had started, but in less than a minute everything was in place as it should have been, and he was liberally slicking his fingers before bringing his mouth back down to work at him again.  
  
Once he could feel him relaxing, that was when he pulled back, letting a fingertip make a gentle circle around his entrance, taking his time in making sure Delta would let him in. Delta’s hands were scrabbling at the sheets, and York crawled back up his body, laying on his side and hooking his legs around one of Delta’s. Giving him a hand to hold onto helped him to relax, but Delta’s grip was so tight that it hurt, fingernails digging little half-moons into the back of his hand. “Shh,” York whispered, kissing his shoulder, his arm, his hand. “Just relax. Let me inside.”

\--

It took a few moments, but eventually York was able to get Delta to relax, a fingertip slipping inside him to the first knuckle. Next to him, Delta’s face was red, and he was biting his lips, his adam’s apple working as if he wanted to make a noise. He didn’t want to guess whether that was an expression of pain or pleasure. “Does it hurt?”  
  
“No, the sensation is merely –“ and he whined as York continued the circular motion, hand gripping his even tighter – “uncomfortable.”  
  
“Trust me, it’ll feel better in a minute, once I get where I’m aiming.” A little more lube, a few more of those little movements, and he could feel his finger slipping inside just like it ought to have. “Yeah, that’s it.”  
  
He knew what he was reaching for, and Delta was so tight that it was almost as if he was purposefully forcing him to seek out that spot. York studied his face carefully, concentrating on the sensation his fingertip was feeding back to him, and there it was, the sudden wide-eyed look of shock as York hit up against his prostate, that sudden clenching feeling around his knuckle. “What –“ he asked, an excited exhale with no more words behind it.  
  
“I told you it would feel better,” York chuckled, working his finger out and then back in to hit the spot again.  
  
Delta cried out in his arms again, breath hitching in his throat, and the expression of bliss on his face was unparalleled. York worked at him carefully, making sure each slow movement was easier than the last, but when he paused to run his fingers in a circle again he got a chastisement from Delta. “Continue,  _please_ …”  
  
Who was he to deny that? He chuckled as he let his finger slide in and out of his partner, making sure to rub that spot on every stroke, and before long Delta was nothing but a mass of shivers in his arm. He almost sounded like he was choking, the noises he wanted to make sticking in his throat. “Remember to breathe,” York whispered, taking in the scent of his hair before licking the shell of his ear.  
  
Delta’s shuddering exhale forced his body to relax, and York took the opportunity to pull out and nudge a second finger against his hole. The gasp he got was reward enough, and the erratic breathing continued as the two fingers slid easily back into place. “York,” he could hear his partner groan as his fingertips pressed up against that spot, and the way he was squirming in his arms was adorable.  
  
It was bliss, to feel Delta writhing up against him, and it was even better to be able to kiss him while easing his fingers in and out. To his surprise, Delta wasn’t flinching back at the kisses, even though York had been licking at his asshole only just recently; to be fair, the taste of soap was still on his tongue, the bitterness something he would now always associate with his partner.  
  
It wasn’t until York started scissoring his fingers that Delta cried out. “What is it?” he asked, stilling his fingers and not daring to move until he had an answer.  
  
“What are you doing?” The way Delta’s voice came through gritted teeth let York know that it had been painful.  
  
“I have to prep you if you’re going to be taking me inside. I mean, if that’s what you want,” he amended, unable to ignore the distinct twinges in Delta’s facial expression.  
  
“Yes – I would still appreciate – “ His words got cut off in a groan as York eased his fingers back in. “Additional lubrication seems required at this point.”  
  
“Ah. You’re going to have to let go of my hand for that.” When Delta did let go, York could see that some of the nail marks had left behind distinct cuts. He had been too focused on Delta’s pleasure to pay attention to his own pain. He was liberal with the lube as he squeezed more onto his hand, and Delta gasped under him, an undeniably pleasured sound, as York continued the controlled thrusts of his fingers.

\--

It was torture going so slowly. All York wanted at this point was to be inside Delta, to have his cock instead of his fingers be the thing that was making his partner flush and sweat. But he had to be gentle; from what he could tell, Delta was handling this remarkably well, but he was still a virgin and required a little more care than usual.  
  
Eventually, the tenseness left Delta’s spine, and he relaxed into the feeling of York stretching him, his anguished cries morphing into low moans with every breath. York deliberately aimed for his prostate again, and Delta practically shrieked, pushing himself back against York’s fingers, too far gone to ask in words for him to do it again.  
  
It was too beautiful, all of it, the sunlight in Delta’s hair, the sensation of Delta’s body around his fingers and nestled up against his side, the feeling of being so connected with him that they might as well have been sharing the same body. York had never been more thankful for teaching himself to be ambidextrous than he was when his other hand reached for his own cock, stroking slowly, teasingly, keeping himself achingly hard but far enough away from climax.  
  
Delta’s body shifted against his, pulling back with his thighs to seat himself back on York’s fingers and bring his hips up from the mattress, and when York looked down he could see Delta mimicking his own actions, fisting his cock deliberately, panting at each thrust whether it was from his own hand or not. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” York asked, his voice breathy.  
  
“I – ah – yes,” was the closest Delta could come to an affirmation, the blissful look on his face a perfect complement to the sweet sensations York was subjecting him to.  
  
“Do you think you’re ready?” He had to ask; communication was key here, and if he made a move before Delta could reciprocate, he was gambling more than he was willing to lose. He could see the look on Delta’s face change from pleasure to apprehension, and the hand Delta had wrapped around his cock fell to the bed. That wasn’t a good reaction, and York stilled the movements of his own hands so he could get through to his partner. “Listen, Dee, if you don’t think you can handle this, we can stop here for right now. We have all day. I could –“  
  
“No,” Delta said emphatically, effectively cutting off his rambling. “We are going to continue. I merely need to remind myself that I can trust you.”  
  
“Delta, look at me.” In no time, those green eyes were fully open, staring up at him with the most love York had seen on a human being. “You can trust me. I love you, and I don’t want to hurt you.”  
  
“Promise me.” It was a whisper, but it held so much weight.  
  
“I promise.” He leaned up against Delta’s body so he could kiss him on the mouth, inadvertently moving his fingers again, and Delta’s gasp against his lips had never tasted so sweet. “Now, I want you to think about this. There’s a few ways we can do this. You – you understand basic anatomy, right?”  
  
“I have a firm grip on the essentials,” he admitted.  
  
York laughed despite himself. “That was a terrible pun, Dee.” But if he was making puns, perhaps this experiment with unlocking his emotions and his memories was a success so far; he seemed to be recovering even a basic sense of humor. “It’ll probably be best if you stay where you are. It’s easier on you that way, and you’ll still have full control over how much you want.”  
  
Delta’s face fell almost imperceptibly. “I was hoping to be able to face you.”  
  
“Oh. Well, we can do that too,” York amended, “but we’ll need to start out this way. Is that –“ Delta reached down to kiss him again, and York marveled that he was getting very good at telling him when he needed to shut up. “All right,” he chuckled as he pulled away, scissoring his fingers in Delta for good measure. “Grab those pillows, would you?”

\--

“Where should I –“ Delta started to say as the two of them started rearranging the bed.  
  
“Here.” York took the pillows out of his hand, easing them under Delta’s hips. “For support,” he explained. “Does it feel all right?” The deep groan Delta was letting out didn’t leave much room for doubt. If possible, the new way his body was postured made him look even more gorgeous to York, that fine ass propped up in the air, the curve of his spine accentuating his slimness, the side of Delta’s face pressed to the mattress. “God, Dee, you look –“  
  
He pushed back against York’s fingers again, gasping as the fingertips rubbed inside him. “I – I would appreciate,” he gasped out as York continued the motion, “I require more stimulation, _please,_  I need…”  
  
York didn’t want to make Delta ask twice. “Just hold on, Dee. Patience.” And his normally practiced hands were fumbling on the nightstand again, ripping open a packet with slick fingers, lubing up his own cock before slipping a condom on, and Delta was keening beneath him, wordless cries begging him to go faster.  
  
One finger, two fingers back inside him, and Delta took them easily enough. York knew this was just about as ready as any human being could be for this kind of activity, but he knew the feeling of apprehension that was about to set in. “Close your eyes.” If Delta could actually  _see_ what was about to go inside him, he knew the kid would clench up.  
  
He didn’t make a move until Delta’s eyes were wrenched shut, nudging the head of his cock against Delta’s hole, and his partner made the most delicious whining noise as York pressed in. Slow was best, but he was meeting a lot of resistance on his way in; Delta didn’t seem to be giving. “Relax, Dee, I’m trying not to hurt you.”  
  
“It – gah –“ From what York could see of his face, it was screwed up in pain, mouth open, eyebrows contracted, cheeks flushed a dark red.  
  
“Please, would you just…” It was hard not to get impatient at this point. So much work for nothing? But he knew everything would iron out after this, and it would be worth it to take his time now. Delta was making little pained noises as York pushed against him, and finally, he gave, the head of York’s cock just barely inside that tightness and heat. “Oh, God, Delta,” he groaned, the sensation almost too intense for words.  
  
“York? Aagh – York, stop, please, too much, it –“  
  
“Just relax, Dee, I promise –“  
  
 _“Stephen!”_  
  
It was like a paralytic; it stilled York inside him immediately. First came the confusion, then the recognition that Delta must have known that name from the medical file and the recollection that York had told him to use it in case of emergency. Next was the memories, the unstoppable torrent of mental images, all the other times his name had been called: as a warning, as a prayer, as a moan, as a curse. And then, finally, it was the crushing realization that he had let Delta down, that he had pushed too far too soon, and the uncomfortable awareness that he didn’t have a similar name to use in return. He was sure that the flood of memories had only taken a few seconds to process, but it felt like ages until he could ask his partner “What do you need?”  
  
“I merely required a moment to adjust. You gave me enough time.” And, sure enough, that viselike feeling was lifting, and everything was coming a little easier now.

\--

It was a few moments of struggling and sliding before York was able to get where he wanted to go, a few moments of uncertainty and awkwardness, but it was all rewarded when York nudged that little spot and made Delta cry out. “You still doin’ okay?” he asked reflexively.  
  
“Nngh – the sensation is rather intense,” Delta admitted.  
  
“Still feels good, right?” York let his hand graze down Delta’s side, tracing his ribs, the feel of his muscles under such soft skin, the jut of his hipbone.  
  
“Intensity and pleasure are not mutually exclusive,” Delta noted, but the gravity of his remark was offset by the way he had said it between his clenched teeth.  
  
If he was still that coherent, York wasn’t doing his job right. He eased out gradually, then thrust back in, smooth and slow, right up against that spot again, and it made him a little breathless to see the curl in Delta’s lips as everything started coming together.  
  
York wanted so badly to take his time, to make this first time really count, but the incomparable feeling of Delta around him made him want to ravage his partner as hard as he could. A few more thrusts, and he tried changing the speed, earning an appreciative whine. He was doing something right, at least. “Here. If we’ve got this down, roll over – on your side… yeah,” he sighed as Delta twisted around him, naturally bringing up his leg to rest against his chest. “Look at me, Dee,” he said gently, trying to match his words with his intentions. “How does it feel?”  
  
Delta’s green eyes opened slowly, but once they locked onto York he didn’t blink or flinch. “This feels –“ he started to say before he bit his lip to stave off another moan.  
  
“That good, huh?” York couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face, smiling so wide he was sure he was splitting his scar. This was turning out to be  _fun_ , feeling so ultimately  _right_ that he couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought to do this sooner. He caressed Delta’s ankle as he moved inside him, turning his head to kiss the arch of his foot, and the strangled noise coming from Delta’s throat could only have been a good thing.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Delta’s slim fingers wrapping around his cock again, pulling gently at perfect counterpoint, and the flush spreading across his collarbones let York know it wouldn’t be long now. But what threatened to undo him was the little whimper for “more, please,  _more_ ,” and York obliged, flipping Delta onto his back and plunging in as far as he could go.  
  
From then on, it was confused, happy gasps, stray touches powerful enough to create entirely new erogenous zones, moans cut through with laughter, sensation after sensation after sensation, all of it building up into the most delicious pressure York had ever felt, until he knew he couldn’t hold it back. “Delta – Dee, I’m –“  
  
“Yes,” Delta hissed, “ _yes_ ,” and he threw his head back with a full-bodied cry, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he came, hard, onto his own stomach. York wasn’t far behind, riding out the feeling of Delta’s orgasm to reach his own, and the force of it nearly blinded him. He knew he reached out for Delta’s arm, trying to clutch onto something, try and dilute the pure intensity of the feeling, but it had been so  _long_  and  _Delta_ …  
  
Too soon, he was coming down from the high, breathing hard, sweat dripping from his forehead and mingling with the sheen already on Delta’s chest. The look on Delta’s face was beatific, and York was convinced that this was how angels must have looked when they fell, pale skin flushed with debauchery, lips ruddy from bites and kisses, blond hair impossibly rumpled, supernaturally green eyes half-lidded from ecstasy, bedsheets and pillows disheveled around his body. “Oh,” York said, trying to catch his breath. “Well, then.”


	15. 43

It took York a few moments to fully disentangle from Delta, peeling apart their sweat-stuck bodies and withdrawing to the sound of whimpers. A quick clean-up was not made any easier by his shaking, tingling fingers, but soon enough he collapsed on the bed again, breathing hard and searching for approval in Delta’s eyes. “So, Dee…” he began, curling up against his partner’s side and brushing the hair from his forehead.  
  
Delta looked at him from the corner of his eyes, one side of his mouth turned up in a wry smile. “Derek,” he said.  
  
“Derek?” Then he realized. “That was your name, wasn’t it?”  
  
“Before they gave me a new one.” York leaned over to kiss him on the lips, but when he pulled back, Delta’s eyes were staring past him, to the ceiling.  
  
York wanted to give him time to process, but he was curious about what was happening inside his head. “You’re awfully quiet, Dee.”  
  
“I apologize. It is merely –“  
  
But as York pressed his body closer, he could tell that Delta was trembling, and when he brought his arms up to draw Delta closer into an embrace, he started shaking even harder. “Shh – what’s wrong?”  
  
“Memory is the key,” Delta reiterated, his voice muffled against York’s chest, “but not everything that is locked is meant to be unlocked.”  
  
“So it worked,” York marveled. “What do you remember?”  
  
“Everything,” he said, voice cracking, and York just held him closer as he continued to tremble. “The facility. What they did to Ben, to Gary, to Eddie, to Thom… to all of us. It was – there were cages. Needles.” His speech was becoming more and more panicked. “Injections – they were cold, and then they would force us to – electric shocks. Guns…”  
  
“It’s okay, Dee.” All he could do was hold him down while he was still shaking so hard. “You don’t have to talk about it. You just have to remember.”  
  
“I remember  _everything_ ,” he said again, pulling back enough to look into York’s eyes. The depth of feeling he could see in their green depths shocked him, so unlike the Delta he had come to know. “I can recall – the anger, the helplessness, the manipulation, all the raw – the feelings, the emotions, the  _reactions_  – they thought they could hide this?”  
  
“What they did was wrong,” York reassured him.  
  
“I was  _fifteen_.” The horror in Delta’s voice was unmistakable. “I was fifteen years old. I was at a boarding school for gifted children, accelerated in computer science and mathematics, and they took me, said their facility would be better.  _They told my parents I had died._  All because they wanted to replicate their one perfect soldier – they kidnapped his brother, he was only _nine_ …”  
  
York knew that Delta couldn’t stop the spill of memories he was having right now, but he wanted his partner to take it slowly, work it through, connect them all in a way that made sense. “Whose brother? What soldier?”  
  
“They called him the Alpha. He was no more than twenty-five, a perfect soldier, the result of the experiments done by Dr. Fairfax. He could do things – inhuman things – that they wanted to replicate in the rest of us.”  
  
With every explanation, York just had more questions. “Do you remember what his name was?”  
  
“Leonard. Leonard Church. He – “ Delta stopped in his tracks, interrupting himself. “The Director. The Director’s son.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” York couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So Epsilon – his own sons –“  
  
“If they were part of the project, then logically, the Director must have been interested in our database for other reasons.” Delta shook his head. “My assumption was wrong. Our program was not  _competing_  with yours, it was  _complementing_  yours.”


	16. 44 + 45 + 46 + 47 + 48

Delta pushed away from York’s chest, climbing over York’s body to leave the bed and pull on clothes. “What are you doing?”  
  
“Research. I must confirm whether my suspicions are correct.” He only had the patience to hitch his trousers up to his waist, holding them there as he stood in front of the computer.  
  
“Aw, come on, Dee, can’t this wait? Come back to bed,” York pleaded, but it was hard to make himself heard over the sounds of Delta’s hurried typing.  
  
“I would appreciate your assistance,” Delta said, sounding somewhere between cajoling and annoyed as he searched through his databases.  
  
“Fine, fine,” York grumbled, climbing out of the bed. He managed to pull on his briefs and trousers before he rummaged through his drawers for his carton of cigarettes. There were only a few left, but this would be one of the good ones. It only took a few seconds for him to disable the detector on their ceiling before he flicked his lighter experimentally a few times. “What do you need help with?”  
  
“Agent Texas,” Delta said quickly, not taking his attention from the computer as he buttoned his trousers with one hand. “What is her full name?”  
  
York’s cigarette was now lit, and the first drag felt like heaven. It had been so long since he’d been able to indulge in this simple pleasure, and the feeling of luxury was making this one of the best days of his life. “I don’t know,” he said, smoke curling up from his mouth. “Allison something.”  
  
Delta turned around, an angry look on his face. “Are you smoking?”  
  
“Don’t worry, I disabled the alarm.” Delta’s look didn’t soften, and York knew he had some explaining to do. “It’s not going to hurt my health, I only have them on… special occasions.”  
  
“Special occasions?” The words didn’t quite sound right in Delta’s mouth.  
  
“Didn’t anyone ever explain to you the post-coital cigarette?” Judging by the look on his face, no; he was missing out on a lot, then. “Want one?”  
  
“No, but your offer is… appreciated.” At least he was developing a sense of sarcasm. He turned back to the computer, concentration fully back, pulling up multiple databases as if to correlate all the information inside. “No confirmation on Allison’s surname?”  
  
“Don’t know it.” York was trying to keep up with the rapid flow of information as best he could, but Delta was working so fast and he only had one good eye to read with. “Why? You think she has something to do with this?”  
  
Judging by the design on the screen, Delta was now searching through the medical files, the same way he had learned York’s given name. It frightened York a little to know that his partner had had access to all this information for all this time, but he hadn’t done anything malicious with it… yet. “Agent Texas – Allison Fairfax.”  
  
“Dr. Fairfax?” There had to have been a mistake, but York watched in shock as Delta brought up the other database, the one they had decrypted a few days ago, and brought up an exact match with the name mentioned in the document. “No.” It couldn’t be possible. He had always known there was something special about Tex, some reason she was always called into meetings with the Director directly instead of meeting with his lackeys, but this? “Tex was the one who did this to you?”  
  
“Her program appears to have been funded by the same oversight committee which has been responsible for Project Freelancer.” Delta’s voice sounded detached, clinical, and York hoped he couldn’t possibly be right, but sure enough, a cursory search of a few more remote databases was coming up with funding matches.

\--

“How did she get picked up by Project Freelancer, then?” So many questions were coming out of this, and York felt lost in the complete mystery of it all. Even another drag of his cigarette couldn’t calm his agitation.  
  
“Following the line of deduction, her work towards creating the perfect soldiers had left her with the resources to rebuild herself into the image of the woman she wanted to be. She caught the Director’s attention, agreed to an alliance, and coupled our programs together.” York didn’t want to admit that Delta’s analysis made sense, but there it was.  
  
“I still don’t understand,” he admitted. “Your program started more than six years ago. Project Freelancer is only a few years old – we started with the war efforts. How could she have been here and still worked on her own project?”  
  
“Her work was complete by the time she was requested to join Project Freelancer,” Delta explained. “Any memories I had of my life, before this morning, were from the past three years, during which time I was being systematically trained as an operative. Logically, that would mean that they had broken us to exact specifications for the three and a half years prior.” A quick search through the databases confirmed his timeline. “Here. This database is dated to four years ago. Her experiments with us were still ongoing at this point.”  
  
“How come you never recognized her?”  
  
Delta just shook his head. “After she broke us, she was gone. All we would hear were whispers while we were being retrained.”  
  
“Retrained…” York let his chin rest on Delta’s shoulder as he looked over his partner’s work, cigarette resting between his lips. “But Project Freelancer had already started by that time. Why would they train –“  
  
And they said it in unison. “Two sets of agents?” Delta continued York’s thought. “You were the one to point out to me that most of the agent pairings here complement each other perfectly. It is likely that the Project Alpha operatives were trained to work in tandem with the agents from your initiative in order to create unstoppable units capable of widespread destruction.”  
  
“It doesn’t make sense, though,” York complained. “Unless… what if the point of having two agents wasn’t the two agents, but the  _pairing?_ ”  
  
“Your suggestions before have already made me realize that the Freelancer-Greek agent pairings were not put together by coincidence,” Delta reminded him. “The closest I can come to an explanation is that we were molded into forms that our Freelancer partners would find irresistible, coupled with functions that would assist you both on and off the field. They would have been able to gather most of that information from your profiles.”  
  
“Which would make their relationship experiments a success,” York finally realized. The feeling of deep-seated discomfort running through him was enough to make him pull back from Delta, turn around so he couldn’t see that beautiful body, that alluring face. Even running a hand through his own hair wasn't enough to calm himself down.  
  
“I am registering a high amount of unease from you, York.” It was as close as he’d come to demanding an explanation.  
  
“They remade you – they kidnapped you, tortured you, broke you down and rebuilt you – so I would fall in love with you.” He felt disgusted with himself, like he should have seen the trap he had fallen into, but at the same time he felt such pity for Delta that he was now even more confused as to what his feelings for his partner should be.  
  
“And did you?”  
  
The last drag of his cigarette was long and bitter, and he reached behind him to put it out on the desk, not caring about the vandalism of Project Freelancer property. He knew the answer, but he held the smoke as long as he could, until it burned his lungs and forced him to take a deep breath. “Yes,” he said, ashamed at the admission.

\--

“Good,” was Delta’s immediate reaction to his confession.  
  
“What?” Nothing about this could have been ‘good,’ and he wheeled around so he could face Delta while he was berating him. “I’m telling you that you were retro-engineered for a psychological experiment. Your personality, your looks, everything about you was changed to meet what they thought was my profile.”  
  
“But it worked.” And to York’s surprise, Delta turned around and stepped into his arms, his forehead in the crook of York’s neck, his arms coming up around his back to hold their bodies close. “You told me you appreciated me because I anticipated your needs, that it felt like we were always meant to be together. And now we have that confirmation.  _I was made for you._ ”  
  
“I don’t deserve this. And neither do you.” He should have known that their pairing was too good to be true – that it had to have been artificial somehow and not just organic. “You should have been allowed to finish school, to do what you wanted to do with your life. You shouldn’t have been forced out of your own personality just so you would fit with mine.”  
  
He could feel the curl of Delta’s lips against his collarbone; he must have said something his partner found amusing. “My personality has remained largely unchanged. Though I no longer have a choice as to my occupation, I am satisfied with the work I am doing.”  
  
“I still shouldn’t have –“  
  
Delta was getting almost too good at interrupting him with those disorienting kisses. “Your objections are superfluous. I have fully consented to everything we have done. As much as I am capable of it, I care for you in return.”  
  
“And you’re sure it’s not just because they made you like this?” But his resolve to object was weakening. Any lingering self-hatred he was feeling was being eased away by the sensation of Delta’s arms around him, the soft smell of his hair, the ghosting of Delta’s breath against his neck.  
  
“My projections are uncertain – too many variables to remove or change. Statistics aside, however, our personalities remain compatible. All that has changed is that I desire your acceptance more than anything else.” And then those green, green eyes were staring into his again, asking for reassurance, and somehow York felt both lost and found at once.  
  
“No worries about that, Dee. I mean it.” And he kissed him, hard, trying to show him how much he loved him instead of just using words, and when Delta’s body pressed back against him he knew he had gotten through to his partner. One kiss led to two, led to three, led to more, and it wasn’t long before York had Delta pinned to their desk, eager for a follow-up from their morning activities.  
  
The computer binged at them, but York ignored it in favor of bringing Delta’s legs up around his hips, caressing his thighs as he kissed his neck. Just as Delta’s ankles locked and his heels pressed into the small of York’s back, though, the computer made a more insistent noise. “I have to validate these reports,” Delta sighed. “York, please,  _later_ …”  
  
York backed off, though he couldn’t help shaking his head as he watched Delta return to work so quickly. “It’s always work with you, isn’t it,” he said, chuckling.  
  
The laugh died in his throat, though, as he saw what Delta had been working on. In front of him was a compilation of the hundreds of databases he had access to, coupled with basic mapping functions. The web of evidence was only growing as they gave the computer more time to think, some of it being decrypted as York watched. “This is no laughing matter, York. This is six and a half years of every morality code we know, twisted to the breaking point.”

\--

“This – this is…” York almost didn’t know what to say as the computer kept compiling fact after fact. “This is unbelievable.”  
  
“The encryption on these databases is the same as the one we recovered on Friday,” Delta noted, and sure enough, the Greek letters were resolving into the Roman alphabet almost faster than York could blink.  
  
“This is enough evidence to bring the Project – both our Projects – to their knees,” York realized.  
  
“All of this information was publicly accessible,” Delta pointed out. “Their deduction was that I would never develop the curiosity to delve further than directly ordered.”  
  
York was still in shock, watching all the evidence piling up in front of him. “We need to tell someone about this.”  
  
“Who would we tell, and what reason would they have to believe us?” Delta had a point.  
  
“We’ll tell the chairman of that committee,” York said, grasping at straws. To tell the truth, he wouldn’t know who to go to with this information.  
  
“He would learn that his funding is being wasted. This would not endear him to our position. Moreover, our statements are unbelievable, and this evidence is easily fabricated.”  
  
“We could tell him your story,” York said. “You remember everything now, right? If you told him –“  
  
Delta’s explanation cut him off. “My memories were supposedly wiped by Project Alpha. The only person whose claims would be tenable would have been Epsilon; his death undoes our story. If you were to claim that you unearthed these databases yourself, you would be met with patent disbelief.”  
  
York sighed. They were in a corner and there was no way to get out. “So what do we do?”  
  
“My report on Friday’s database is due to the Director tomorrow,” Delta reminded him. “Even a cursory calculation shows it is unwise to summarize our entire findings for him, lest we meet with unsavory consequences.”  
  
York couldn’t help the pressure building inside him; if he didn’t say it, he was going to explode. “We’re going to run away.”  
  
Delta just turned to him, a gaping expression on his face. “I fail to see how surrender and retreat are applicable to this situation.”  
  
“No, Dee, it’ll work.” And as he kept talking, the idea grew clearer and clearer in his head. “We’ll pack up everything we own – all the databases you’ve stolen on your hard drive, my slate, your computer, enough clothes and food and money to make it on our own for a while. We’ll take a few vehicles, a few guns, some ammo, and  _run_. We’ll get the hell out of here, somewhere they can’t touch us, somewhere they can’t get to you ever again…”  
  
“I understand that elopement is a highly romanticized ideal,” Delta cut him off, “but Agent Carolina –“  
  
“Will you  _please_  not talk about her?” The feeling of possibility had been there between him and her, but she had attempted to escape with her two AI within a week of being assigned. She had turned up with a sniper round through her skull, and when York had asked for an explanation, he was told it was a training mishap. He still didn’t know where Pi and Rho were, and after finding out what had happened to Delta, he didn’t want to think about what they were possibly going through. It was just another entry in the long list of failures he thought he could have prevented.  
  
“The fact remains that we would be wanted men. At best, they will recapture us and force us to rejoin the Project. At worst, we will share Agent Carolina’s fate.”  
  
“Then we’ll just have to be more careful than that. Listen, Dee,” and he made sure he had Delta’s gaze before he continued, “We can do this – live off the grid, keep moving from place to place, breaking and entering, stealing all the food and money we need.”

\--

“We would have to become criminals.” It wasn’t a question, and York knew Delta was warming to the idea.  
  
“We’re  _already_  criminals; we’re just sanctioned by the government,” York pointed out. “Between my career as a locksmith and my training here, I’ve learned to break into pretty much anywhere. Your computer skills might even earn you a job here and there. Even if you couldn’t do that, we’re light-fingered enough to steal what we need.”  
  
“When would we leave?” The desperation in Delta’s voice made it clear that he, too, was afraid to stay, would rather have been anywhere but here.  
  
“Whenever they give us a chance. It would have to be short-notice.” The more he talked about the idea, the more he was turning out to like it.  
  
“If I deliver this report to the Director, I may inadvertently indicate the breadth of our knowledge. This would make it more dangerous, but perhaps…” Delta’s eyebrows furrowed, and that thinking pout was back on his face.  
  
“You’re thinking of lying to him, aren’t you?”  
  
“That would be the simplest solution, yes.” York could hardly keep track of Delta’s fingers as his keystrokes manipulated the computer screen, beginning the draft of the report that was due the next day. “If I indicate that we need more information to draw a stable conclusion as to what to do about this threat, it may give us enough time.”  
  
That didn’t seem like much of a solution to York. “If they send us out on another mission –“ But giving himself a few seconds to think, he realized that Delta’s plan was meshing with his own. “Depending on how involved it seems, we could get away with a lot more gear. Two vehicles, even, if we can manage.”  
  
“Two vehicles?” Somehow Delta was able to carry on this conversation and write his draft of the report at the same time, and York marveled at his skills for what seemed like the thousandth time.  
  
“We’d have to split up – make sure the trail goes cold so they can’t track us. Anything we take is going to need the tracking taken out of it. You can break that, right?” Delta nodded, but he still seemed unfocused. As he looked over Delta’s shoulder, he tried to make out what his partner was typing, but the cursor was moving too fast for him to keep track. “What are you writing?”  
  
“York.” That wasn’t a pleased tone, and the glare he was shooting back at him was annoyed bordering on angry. “I understand that your intentions are beneficial, but your presence here is distracting.”  
  
“There has to be something I can do to help.” He hated this jittery feeling, the implication that he was useless, and he wanted to do anything he could to lessen Delta’s burden after the sudden onslaught of memories.  
  
“There is. I would appreciate a meal – our breakfast was insufficient.” He still sounded irritated.  
  
If Delta was still getting flashes of his past, York wanted to make sure he was present to handle whatever Delta couldn’t. Apparently, though, Delta didn’t need his help. “Fine,” he muttered, picking his shirt up from the floor and shoving it over his head. “I’ll leave. Didn’t realize you’d be so angry.”  
  
The sounds of typing slowed, then stopped. York was about to leave the room when he looked back to the computer and saw Delta looking back at him, green eyes wide, hands shaking as they hovered over the keyboard. “I apologize,” he said quietly. “I did not mean to direct my rage at you. I am… confused. Conflicted.”  
  
York closed the distance between them as quickly as he could; the hug he swept Delta into could only have been described as crushing. “It’s okay. I just don’t want you to be angry with me.”  
  
Delta’s voice came out muffled against his chest. “I assure you, I am not. However, I would appreciate some personal space.”  
  
At least when he let Delta go, the kid looked a little calmer. “I’ll give you some time after I bring you lunch.” A quick, light kiss on Delta’s cheek, and York was gone for the door, feeling unsettled himself after that flash of emotion from his partner.


	17. 49 + 50

True to fashion, Delta was so busy when York dropped off his lunch that he didn’t even turn his head to say hello. He was lost in thought, alternately typing and erasing what he had written, chewing on his bottom lip and sighing. When York laid a hand on his shoulder, Delta shrugged it off.  
  
Fine, then. He’d hang out somewhere else while his partner was finishing the report. The one place where York was guaranteed to get some peace and quiet on a weekend was the small reading library that was set up in the Freelancer Corps common space, so he grabbed his slate and headed off to do some brainstorming of his own.  
  
The chairs were comfortable here, and even though the room was a little stuffy, the smell of books was comforting. York missed cracking open the books, running his fingers over the pages, dog-earing the corners, but his left eye always pained him when he tried to read anything that wasn’t backlit. As it was, he had enough difficulty assisting Delta with his computer work.  
  
York was in the middle of updating the maps on his slate when an all-too-familiar voice interrupted him. “I’m gonna need some help, York.”  
  
“Whaugh!” It startled him out of his concentration, and he fumbled the slate a little. When he looked up, fierce grey eyes were staring at him from under cherry-red fringe. She was keeping her hair back today with a bandana instead of her usual bunches. He’d never tell her this to her face, but she was the last person he wanted to see right now, especially after Delta’s revelation this morning. “I mean, uh, hi. You… startled me.”  
  
“You never were a very good liar.” She raised an eyebrow as if she expected an explanation for his behavior.  
  
He glared in return. “Allison.” It was a threat of what he knew and a warning to leave him well enough alone.  
  
She wouldn’t leave. “I saw the announcement about Wash this morning, and I need to make a move. I need to know if you’ll help me.”  
  
“Let me guess.” He put down his slate, carefully hiding the maps he was working on from her view. “There’s someplace you want to get into, and somebody doesn’t want you getting into it.” That was the only reason anyone around here ever asked for his help.  
  
“I finally figured out where they’re keeping the Alpha.”  
  
York was confused. Hadn’t Delta just told him that Tex had been the one to run the experiments? “You didn’t know where he was?”  
  
“Why would I have –“ Then her eyes widened as she processed what he had inadvertently let slip. “How do you know about that?”  
  
“Delta and I were assigned to the theft of a database on Friday. Your name was all over it.” He wanted an explanation.  
  
“Those cockbites.” She shook her head. “You were a locksmith before they picked you up for this, right?” York nodded, tight-lipped as he waited for her rationalization. “I was a psychologist. I specialized in post-traumatic stress disorder, which is how I got to know Church – not the Director, his son,” she clarified. “He was seeing someone else in our building, but he always seemed to gravitate back to me whenever he had a problem. Church’s case was one of the more complicated and advanced I’d seen, and I started taking notes on it, keeping my own informal files on him, speculating as to what had made him so – so – superhuman.  
  
“I was contacted seven years ago by a group that was interested in my research. I handed it all over, and I guess that was my mistake. You can see what they did with the information – and, of course, the sons of bitches kept my name on everything.” She pinched the bridge of her nose with one hand, hiding her eyes from York. “I had nothing to do with it. The only time I was at that facility was to take Church to visit his brother.  
  
“Which is why I need your help.” Those icy blue eyes were staring at him again, and York knew she was doing everything short of begging him.

\--

“And why is it, exactly, that I should help you?” He could just let Delta do whatever he pleased with her, after all; his newfound rage would finally have an acceptable target.  
  
“Epsilon’s dead,” she reminded him. “Church – the Alpha – doesn’t know. I need to tell him, and I need to make sure he’s safe.” She sighed heavily. “I haven’t seen him since Project Freelancer started, and when I tried to reach out to contact him today, I found out he had been moved to an undisclosed location. ‘Undisclosed,’ of course, just means the hardest one for me to break into – which is where you come into the picture.” She raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
As bad as York himself was at lying, he knew when people were telling the truth. Tex was being honest with him, he had to admit it. “Okay, let’s say I do this,” he acquiesced. “What’s in it for me?”  
  
“What do you want?”  
  
He looked down at the slate in his hands, filled with the maps he and Delta would need to escape from here. “A distraction.” She just stared at him, and he knew he had to explain himself to her. “Delta and I are trying to put together a plan to escape. We know too much, and we don’t feel safe here after what happened with Wash and Epsilon. If you can make sure everybody else is distracted, especially the corps, then we have a fighting chance of making it out of here.”  
  
“Why do you need my help with that?”  
  
“Remember what happened to Carolina?” She clearly did, if the way she was crossing her arms was any indication. “You’ve always been the best of us. If anyone can run a distraction and lead the corps on a wild goose chase, it’s you. Especially if you’re taking Omega with you.” He squinted at her. “You are taking him with you, aren’t you?”  
  
“Of course. He and I are hightailing it out of here same as you and Dee are. I just need a way to break into the facility where they’re keeping the Alpha.”  
  
York took his slate back out again and started a new search. “Got a name for this place?”  
  
“Sidewinder. Apparently it’s on an ice planet? I don’t know much more on it besides that.”  
  
York whistled quietly at the detail in the schematics as he pulled up the maps on his slate. “You’re telling me you want to get in  _there_?”  
  
She sighed. “Just give me an ETA.”  
  
He started manipulating the maps with his fingertips, already searching for weaknesses in the defenses. “If it’s that important to you, I’ll ping it to you later tonight. Soon enough for you?”  
  
“The sooner, the better.” And before he could look up from his work, she was gone from the library.  
  
For his part, York knew he needed Delta’s help for this, so he headed back to his room. It felt strange to be planning this alone, without his partner’s analytical mind to think in tandem with his, and he felt his heart go sideways in his chest as he thought about Delta, sitting in front of his computer, painfully alone with nothing but his databases for company, slogging through work. He’d given him enough personal space for one afternoon, right? He needed Delta there with him, not just as a strategist but also just as someone to keep him company. He hadn’t anticipated being this lonely without him.  
  
Delta was still hard at work, but at least he noticed when York came in the room. Instead of continuing like he usually did, Delta turned to him, a small smile spreading on his face, his green eyes lit with warmth. “Have you finished your planning?”  
  
York couldn’t smile back, not in good conscience. If Delta knew what he’d had to do, who he’d had to strike a bargain with, to get them out of here… He’d tell him eventually. Just not now. “We’ll need to pack tonight,” he announced. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”


	18. 51

The rest of York and Delta’s afternoon was spent streamlining the report that was due to the Director. Phrases were reworded, databases sifted through again and again. York got the chance to point out to Delta what Tex had told him, and they were able to corroborate her story with their evidence. From the frosty silence he could feel from Delta whenever her name was brought up, though, York knew he would have a hard time trusting the other Freelancer again. Even with how hard they were working, at a certain point, there nothing else either of them could do to make the report any more concise or any less incriminating. It was time for a break anyhow; the mess hall would be serving Sunday dinner.  
  
The hallways, though, were eerily quiet, and the atmosphere in the mess felt similarly haunted. Instead of the usual shouted boasts between Freelancers, Greek-lettered agents, and corps members, the jostling for space at the packed tables, and the general camaraderie, there were only a few corps members here today, all alone, eating their dinner in silence. Agents would pass each other near the door to share a few brief whispers of gossip, almost as if they didn’t dare to say their fears out loud. York and Delta ate quickly, knowing that the rest of their night would be taken up with making plans.  
  
Without even having to talk about it first, they both headed to one of the storage buildings in their facility. It was nice to feel so connected to Delta that they could make single-minded decisions. As they walked, York felt a crazy urge to take Delta’s hand and thread their fingers together, but he couldn’t let on about anything – not so close to something this risky. Their constant significant glances, though, would have been confirmation enough.  
  
Inside the building was everything they’d need to make a grand escape. Duffels were a must, of course, to pack their clothing, but there were spare battle rifles, pistols, and ammunition in here, too. Pushed off to one side were some unmarked black uniforms, and when Delta called York’s attention to them, he knew they’d hit the jackpot. The only insignia on these was the inverted triangle of Project Freelancer, and that could be easily enough removed.  
  
They took as much as they could carry with them. York was nervous about potentially running into someone in the hallway who would question them about their suspicious behavior, but there were two things working in their favor. It was Sunday, a weekend day, a day when the agents and corps members tried to lounge around and keep up with personal projects before the grind of the workweek started up again. Not only that, but with the incident from last night, York was sure that everyone was trying to lay low, doing their own research to figure out if the rumors were actually true.  
  
Packing up their things took them the rest of the night, but when all was said and done, they only had a few duffels piled in the center of the room that they counted as essential. “This is everything,” York mused as he sat on his bed, staring at the sum total of his earthly possessions. “This is my entire life, right here.”  
  
“It is fortunate that we have so little to take with us,” Delta pointed out. Though before he might have sat on his own bed, this time he sat next to York, and his presence was welcome.  
  
“Tell the truth, Dee,” York said, laying a hand on Delta’s knee, “if we left tomorrow, with nothing but each other and the clothes on our backs? I think – I think I’d be okay with that.”  
  
Delta seemed to understand what he needed; his hand came to rest on York’s, and he laid his head on York’s shoulder. “A potential head start would also be helpful.”  
  
“You did all you could with that report,” York reassured him. “All we have to do is stand there and look pretty while you tell the Director’s lackey everything she wants to hear.” He spoke the last part through a yawn, though. Had today really gone by so quickly? “Should probably sleep, though. Can’t get shot at properly without a little rest first.”


	19. 52

Monday dawned cool and grey, they sky threatening on the horizon. York found himself awake early, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave his bed; Delta was curled up into his side, head on his shoulder, arm draped across his chest, breathing slowly as he slept. York stroked his hair softly, trying not to wake him, and watched the light behind the curtains change, lost in thought.  
  
He knew Delta was awake when he felt his head move, and when he looked down, those brilliant green eyes were slowly blinking away their sleepiness. “How long have you been awake?” His voice was still hoarse from slumber.  
  
York pressed a kiss into his hair. “Just a few hours.”  
  
“You will be alert for our escapades later?” Somehow, Delta was always able to go from sleep to complete attentiveness in less than a minute, and before York could plead with him to stay in bed for a little longer, he was already climbing out.  
  
“’Course.” Too much was riding on this for him not to be vigilant.  
  
‘Later,’ though, was coming sooner than he’d like. He and Delta showered, dressed, and ate their breakfast in relative silence; if Delta was feeling anything like York was, York knew he’d want to be mostly left alone to his own thoughts. It was soothing to have someone present that he didn’t have to talk to, that he could just share a comfortable silence with, and he knew they didn’t need to talk to know what the other was thinking.  
  
The walk to the administration building was tense, especially when York saw a ginger head bob around a corner out of his right side’s peripheral vision. Omega and Tex must have already been planning today’s excursion, then, after the maps he had managed to send them the night before. When he looked over to Delta, though, he could tell his partner hadn’t seen. His eyes were set ahead, but unfocused, and he was biting at his lower lip, a sure nervous tic.  
  
They were waiting to be admitted to see the Director’s lackey when York couldn’t take the tension any more, reaching out to lay a hand on Delta’s shoulder. “You’re sure we can pull this off?”  
  
When Delta turned to him, his eyes betrayed his uneasiness, but the set of his mouth showed that he was determined. “This does not require Gamma-level deception. I am sure I will be able to convince her to allow us to leave.”  
  
And, almost as soon as the words had left his mouth, they were being called into the room where the lackey sat behind her desk, waiting for their report. “At ease,” she replied to their sharp salutes. “Delta, the report, please.”  
  
He’d consolidated it to a small chip the night before, and York watched, unable to let go of his tension, as the lackey took the information from Delta’s hand, loaded the report onto her own slate, and began thumbing through it at her leisure. This was always the hardest part of their missions – explaining the necessity of their actions.  
  
It was several minutes before she made her way through the report, and in the meantime, York and Delta had nothing else to do but stand there and wait for her to ask them a question. Delta looked to York a few times for reassurance, but the most reassuring thing York could do was stay still, head forward, and show Delta what he ought to be doing.  
  
Then, finally, the lackey spoke up. “And you’re sure the rest of the information will be at the same facility?”  
  
“All my intelligence indicates that the rest of this project’s proceedings are scattered in other databases at this same compound,” Delta said easily. “We require Project Freelancer’s permission to collect the rest of this information.”  
  
It was a tense moment while she continued to scan the document, and York could swear he could taste Delta’s impatience. Then, the lackey acquiesced. “Very well. Permission to access this information. This is a level two directive.”  
  
Conversation over, mission accomplished. A smart salute, and York turned away from her, unable to hide the smile on his face – and, looking over, he could tell Delta felt just as relieved.


	20. 53 + 54

The second they were out of the room, York could feel as Delta slipped his fingers up against York’s palm. He didn’t even second-guess the contact, gripping on to his partner as tight as he dared, running down the hallway with him to their room. “You remember how the plan’s supposed to go?”  
  
“Yes, York – I appreciate your concern, but my memory is impeccable.” As they raced to put everything in order, they passed others in the hallway, and York knew they must be staring at the two of them. Delta, though, didn’t let go, only dug in his fingernails a little deeper, letting York know that he was holding on.  
  
It was the work of a few moments to grab the duffels they had packed from the night before. Now, the problem was going to be taking the vehicles out of the motorcade. There were already other soldiers here, gossiping as they loaded up for whatever the day’s mission would be, but York and Delta didn’t have time for idle chitchat. All the duffels got dumped in the back of a turretless Warthog, but when York attempted to hop in, Delta stopped him with a palm to the chest and a wordless glance. “Delta, what are you doing?” he asked as he watched his partner vault into the driver’s seat.  
  
Without answering him, Delta balled up his hand into a fist and smashed it into the driver’s instrument panel. The crash of glass reverberated around the motorcade, and York could sense the other pairs of soldiers slowing their movements for a moment and focusing their attention on him. York understood why Delta did it, though, once he saw the gleam of a microprocessor in his hand. “This is the tracking chip,” he explained, pressing it into York’s hand and letting his fingers linger a little longer than strictly necessary. “Destroy it. Take anything out of our Mongoose that could trace our position offline – global positioning, radar, anything that triangulates position.”  
  
“Got it.” But he still refused to leave Delta’s side – the prospect of separating from him during such a dangerous mission made him feel unsettled. “Be safe,” he pleaded with him, gripping him hard around the wrist.  
  
“I will.” Delta was earnest, but his tone was still professional.  
  
“I mean it, Dee.” And he knew just looking into Delta’s eyes wouldn’t be enough for him to communicate all he was feeling. He propped himself up on the sideboard of the Warthog, leaning up just far enough that he could run his fingers through Delta’s hair and bring his lips to Delta’s forehead. “I love you.”  
  
“York.” His voice was warm, patient, but firm.  
  
“Please, just get to the rendezvous safely – I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you –“  
  
“York,” he said again, and something in Delta’s tone cut through to York’s fears. His eyes looked frightened, but his voice was steady as he said, “We should not risk detection so close to such a dangerous mission.”  
  
York just laughed hollowly. “Dee, I  _don’t care_  whether they know about us or not. From now on, there’s no way they can take you away from me.” But he acquiesced to Delta’s request, dismounting from the side of the Warthog and giving him a gentle pat on the leg. He had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat so he could confirm, “1700 hours?”  
  
“1700 hours.” And then Delta was bringing the Warthog online, messing with the six pedals to put it in reverse, then driving off before York could call out anything as he left.  
  
If he thought he was anxious before, though, it was nothing compared to the sudden twist in his stomach as he saw Tex leaning on his Mongoose, the look on her face indicating that she had seen everything.

\--

York didn’t want to have this confrontation with Tex. Not right now, when he was supposed to be leaving. “Don’t look at me like that,” he told her, ignoring her presence as he punched out the glass in the instrument panel, just as Delta had done. The pain in his hand was nothing compared with the sting of his partner’s absence, and he wished his eyes were sharper as he searched for the tracking mechanism he knew was in the vehicle. Delta would have been able to find it right away…  
  
But to his surprise, Tex’s deft fingers reached inside and yanked it out, holding it out for him. “You too?” she asked quietly.  
  
He swiped it from her, trying to glare up at her. Her face was unreadable once again. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he griped.  
  
He didn’t get an answer. Tex had already turned her attention to a scuffle in the corner of the motorcade, and when York looked closer, he thought he could see a ginger kid taking on two Corps members at once, a blur of limbs as he dropped them both to the ground. From next to him, Tex signed, rolling up her sleeves. “O’Malley…” she sighed. “He can’t just wait for us to leave, has to get in on the action.”  
  
“O’Malley?” At first he didn’t understand who she was talking about. Then, once the Corps members had been incapacitated, he got a good look at who had been beating them up: Omega. He knew he was fingering the scar in his face, and he felt a chill go up his spine when he realized just who Omega reminded him of. What was more puzzling right now, though, was this: “How do you know his name?”  
  
“Know whose –“ And then she realized her mistake, the only hint of it the brief moment when her eyes widened. York knew the feeling, though, understood what it felt like to carry around that secret. At least they would share it now.  
  
At that point, it didn’t seem to matter. The fact that an agent had attacked two Corps members unprovoked had set an alarm off through the complex. “Alarm: threat level alpha,” a genial female voice was saying. “All personnel report at once. This is not a drill.”  
  
“Oh,  _crap_ ,” Tex said loudly; York had expected a stronger swear. It wasn’t long before she, too, had joined in the fracas, clotheslining a Corps member to the ground before disarming another, bringing up the butt of the gun to melee him in the jaw before turning the gun on someone new.  
  
This was exactly what York had meant when he had told her he needed a distraction. With the Corps focused on her and Omega, he had the freedom to leave with an extra vehicle without being examined too closely by security. “Good luck, Tex,” he muttered under his breath.  
  
The only thing he had left to do before leaving was find some way to disable the tracking chips. Turning them over in his hand, he debated just leaving them here, but then the Director’s lackey would think that he and Delta hadn’t left on their mission, and the suspicion would begin earlier. His best hope at this point was to crush them under the wheel of the Mongoose as he left, and if called on it, blame the lack of tracking on some kind of interference.  
  
He littered the chips on the ground, turned the cycle on, and pulverized the chips into the ground as he backed up to leave. No Corps member at the exit meant no one to question him on his suspicious behavior, and within seconds, he was revving the throttle and driving away from Freelancer Command as fast as the little vehicle would take him.


	21. 55

The landscape York was driving through was desolate, nothing but dust kicking up under his Mongoose’s wheels and rocks jarring his hands from the handlebars. He had never realized how hard it was for him to drive missing the left side of his face until he had to do it for himself; usually he’d be traveling with Delta, on the passenger’s side of their Warthog, Delta’s sharper eyes filling in for his blind spot.  
  
It hurt to think about Delta right now. Sure, he should have been elated that the escape had worked exactly as he had planned, but it was hard to celebrate without Delta there with him. If he knew his partner was safe, if he had confirmation that he’d be making it to the rendezvous point without too much trouble, he could relax, but as it was, unbidden thoughts kept rising to the surface of his mind: Delta captured by whatever Corps members hadn’t been called to the Tex/Omega foray, Delta fighting his way desperately out of an ambush, Delta pinged down by a hidden sniper on a ledge, his slim body falling from the Warthog covered in blood –   
  
The image had been so vivid, but once he blinked, it was gone, the endless scream in his ears just the whistle of wind as he tried to rev the cycle even harder. He didn’t feel safe without his partner. It didn’t feel right without him here. The yearning he was feeling was manifesting itself as a sickening pressure inside his chest, and York thought he’d either crumple or explode from the weight of it on him. York couldn’t tell whether it was helping or hurting his resolve that he was thinking so much of Delta; all he knew was that he couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn his mind any other way.  
  
He knew the storm that had been on the horizon this morning was about to break around him. He’d be getting to the rendezvous earlier than he’d planned, but if it would keep him dry, at least he’d be a little less miserable about the whole day. Getting his Mongoose into the shelter, though, didn’t make him feel any safer, just acutely more aware of Delta’s absence. He knew he ought to eat something to keep up his strength, but his stomach refused to un-knot, the worry he was feeling for Delta making him feel half-sick with anticipation.  
  
If he could clear his mind enough to think rationally, he could admit to himself that Delta could take care of himself, that he’d make it back safely, that he was simply caught in the storm or taking a longer route in order not to be tracked. But as York’s first few minutes in the abandoned warehouses he’d picked for their rendezvous trailed into hours, he found himself wondering what was taking his partner so long. Was Delta feeling the same anxiety he was? Or was he taking his time, using every minute until the time they’d agreed on, staying unnervingly calm?  
  
He tried not to check the time too often, but the time slipped by, whether he measured it or not. 1650… 1657… 1704. It was unlike Delta to be late for anything, and York began to wonder how long he should stick around. Just when his imagination began getting the worst of him again, however, he heard a revving noise outside of the warehouse, one that didn’t sound like a Warthog.  
  
Twitchy, he grabbed his trusty battle rifle, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it but expecting the worst. Right when he put it up to his eye, though, he could see a figure stumbling around the corner, clothes stained with mud and blood, hair matted with filth, drenched through to the bone. It wasn’t until they made eye contact that York realized, green eyes reaching through to him like a jolt of electricity – “ _Delta?_ ”


	22. 56 + 57 + 58 + 59

“I realize we have not known each other for very long,” Delta said, stumbling into the shelter proper, his hair dripping, “but you ought to have recognized me on sight.” His voice had a wry turn to it, and he was smiling.  
  
York let his gun fall to the floor and caught Delta in his arms before he collapsed entirely; the kid was obviously too exhausted to stand straight, because he was letting himself be held to York’s chest, practically sitting in his lap. “Dee, I thought – you didn’t come by the time we agreed on, and I thought –“ He pushed the images aside and tried to summon some righteous anger at having been snubbed. “Where were you?”  
  
A reflection from below caught his good eye, and York stared down at Delta’s palm, which was holding a hard drive. “It was imperative that I fulfilled our mission, if only for my own personal achievements,” he explained. He was breathless, panting, the smile never leaving his face.  
  
“You little – I was worried  _senseless!_ ” But even attempting to chastise his partner couldn’t stop the immense feeling of relief flooding through York’s system. He brushed Delta’s wet hair from his forehead, his fingertips drawing lines in the dirt on his face, and it was like after that initial touch, he just couldn’t stop. He drew a line down the side of Delta’s face, leaning down to kiss him, and the feeling of Delta’s tongue in his mouth felt so  _right_  after the loneliness of his long ride that he couldn’t pull himself away.  
  
But Delta was soaked through, the wetness seeping through York’s own uniform, and the two of them laughed at the uncomfortable, damp sensation. “Come on, Dee, let’s get you out of those clothes – oh, you’re filthy,” he despaired as he pushed up Delta’s turtleneck. He’d picked up a layer of grime from his infiltration and fleeing in the rain, but as York tried to clean off the worst of it, he only smeared it more. And as Delta shrugged out of his turtleneck, he realized that the grime wasn’t entirely mud and grease. “Whose blood is this?”  
  
“Not mine,” Delta reassured him, and before York could question him again, he was blinded by the force of the kiss Delta planted on his lips. Delta’s arms came up around his shoulders to lock him in place, as if he wanted to flee, as if he ever wanted this to stop.  
  
“I missed you today, Dee,” York mumbled between kisses. “I needed your help.”  
  
“You are perfectly capable of navigating by yourself,” Delta pointed out over a gasp from York; his turtleneck, too, had become soaked, and Delta was working it up his stomach and chest.  
  
“You’re my left side,” he said. The despair he’d felt earlier was burning away under each of Delta’s kisses, every touch searing his skin. “Do you know how  _hard_  it was –“ And why had he said that, why then, when Delta’s hand managed to find how desperate he was, how glad for the physical contact? The rest of his sentence dissolved in a groan as Delta continued to touch him, rubbing a palm against two layers of clothing to spike him even higher.  
  
“I never realized –“ and it was Delta’s turn to gasp as York’s tongue and teeth found a sensitive spot on his neck, “how much I relied on you, until you were no longer by my side.”  
  
“See? You need me too.” York chuckled, the scar on his face nuzzling up against Delta’s neck as he reached down to help Delta out of his soaked trousers. “Or at least want me,” he muttered, staring at the bulge his partner was making no effort to hide.

\--

Delta’s hair dripped onto York’s face as he fought to push his soaked trousers off his legs, and York could feel the rivulet of a drop coursing through his scar, the sensation ticklish, as he tried to warm Delta’s cold, clammy skin. His original intention had been to get Delta into some dry clothes, but now that his partner was nearly naked, his resolve to keep the encounter chaste was slipping – especially now that he could feel Delta’s pulse accelerating as he caught a wrist between a thumb and forefinger, now that he could taste how sweet the inside of his mouth was.  
  
Delta wanted it too, if the way he was pressing against York was any indication, kissing him harder and harder, slick skin sliding so effortlessly against his chest. “Please,” he was murmuring between every assault of his lips, “please forgive me, York, the surge of adrenalin after a successful mission –“  
  
“I don’t care, Dee,  _don’t stop_ ,” and he wanted it to come out as a laugh, but he was already breathless as Delta’s weight pushed him back to the floor. He needed to burn all that deadness out of him, and each touch and kiss from his partner lit a spark through his skin that he didn’t want to go out. They were alive, damn it, alive after everything the Project had ever tried to do to them, coasting on the thrill of cheating death.  
  
Delta seemed keen on celebrating, his thumbs hooking in the gap between York’s hip bones and his trousers. He didn’t even ask this time as he started easing them down, and York was sure he was about to go insane from the pressure before Delta’s slim, cool fingers were touching him again. In the process of kicking them off, he somehow managed to buck Delta off, and it was the easiest thing to roll over and pin Delta to the floor, delighting in the smile on his partner’s face as he caressed and kissed as he pleased. Delta’s voice was a seductive pant, coming out between gasps. “I desire –“  
  
“Oh, God,  _yes_ , Dee,” so did he, hot with lust as he peeled away Delta’s briefs. It was too easy to reach around with one hand, a probing fingertip finding its mark while his other hand worked in long, sure strokes against Delta’s cock. His partner was practically howling now, face flushed, head thrown back, his adam’s apple bobbing as he tried to contain the screams of pleasure. “You can be as loud as you want,” York reminded him, and he was surprised at how husky his own voice sounded. “There’s no one to catch us here.”  
  
“More –  _more_ ” was his first request, squirming against York’s hold on him, and York hurried to oblige him, working in a fingertip as Delta cried out brokenly with relief. Delta’s hands were grasping at him, too, seeming desperate to give as good as he was getting, fumbling with his briefs and reaching for his cock. York sobbed at the feeling as Delta’s long, cool fingers slid against his shaft, the pressure somehow both easing and building at once.  
  
With another cry from Delta, though, York became convinced that he must be hurting him somehow; he’d never heard his partner this loud before. “Does it hurt? Do you need –“  
  
“Please  _continue_ ,” Delta ordered him forcefully. His words got cut off as York eased his finger in, surprised at how relaxed Delta seemed compared to – had it been just yesterday? He felt like a totally different person by now, surprisingly carefree now that he knew that he and Delta would be safe. Maybe that same assurance was encouraging Delta to let go, to open for him, because he looked more wanton than ever before, red-faced, eyes half-closed, flashing a beatific smile to York as he gave in to the pleasure he was receiving.

\--

York could have done this all day, could have worked Delta with his hands until his partner was spasming underneath him and calling his name. As he worked in another finger, though, Delta’s hand on his cock became more insistent, the grip changed just enough that the feeling was edging on unbearable. “Do you want –“  
  
“Yes, York, please,  _just do it_ ,” and the impatient sigh as he lifted his hips against York’s fingers working in him made it graphically clear exactly what he wanted.  
  
York could have waited, could have drawn it out, but there was no need to – and besides, he was burning just as hot as Delta was, if he could admit it to himself. It was gratifying to see Delta was the one to lose control first this time, Delta who was usually so professional and formal and composed falling apart underneath him until he was reduced to pants and gasps and the hint that he might even slip into profanity if York didn’t do something soon.  
  
So he lifted Delta’s hips, nestled himself between Delta’s thighs, and began to nudge himself inside.  
  
They’d have time for hard and fast later. For now, York didn’t want to push his luck. Besides, it was beautiful, watching the expression on Delta’s face slowly morphing, his pleased look turning into happiness, into joy, bliss, rapture as York slowly, slowly eased his way in. Once he was situated the way he liked, Delta’s ankles came around his back to lock him in place. His hands were gripping onto York’s biceps so hard that York knew there’d be marks there later. It sounded like he wanted to scream, but the pleasure was so intense that it only came out as a choked sigh.  
  
“Remember to breathe, Dee,” he whispered into his ear as he thrust up against him, and at least kissing his neck seemed to make him gasp and shudder beneath him. Labored breathing was better than no breathing, but Delta would sigh so lightly with every movement York made against him, and York was breathless himself.  
  
No matter how deep he plunged into Delta, no matter how much of him he managed to get his mouth on, no matter how firmly he tried to grasp every inch of Delta’s skin, York still couldn’t get close enough to Delta, couldn’t dissolve the stupid barrier of their bodies and just crawl inside Delta’s skin and never leave. He moved against Delta like he meant it, frantic, not wanting it to ever stop, knowing that this was as close as he was ever going to get, pushing closer, harder, faster, “oh,  _God_ ,” and it didn’t matter who said it, because their sighs and gasps and cries and moans just blended together into an exuberant symphony declaring their independence.  
  
He saw Delta’s arm move and matched it with his own, and their fingers wound together as both their hands worked on Delta’s cock. Everything was moving much too fast now, every motion a blur, every sound a slur, and ecstasy hit York full force like lightning along his nerves as he came, hard, not holding anything back, teeth closing on Delta’s skin to stop the sensation from overwhelming him. Delta followed soon after, his cock pulsing under York’s hold.  
  
York was breathing hard by the time he had the sense to pull away, and he fell to Delta’s side, holding his partner close as he rode out that sudden high. Even though Delta was filthy, his hair still managed to smell fragrant, and York buried his nose in it before pulling back. Delta’s green eyes were virtually sparkling, and his voice was sex-low when he said “Thank you.”

\--

Delta’s mouth, though, was bleeding as York reached out a hand for his face. “Did – did I do that? Damn it, Dee, you should have told me, I would have stopped, I’m so sorry…” He used the pad of his thumb to try and smear away the blood, but the cut was deeper than he’d thought, an ugly gash on the left side of his lower lip. “This is going to scar if I don’t do something about it.”  
  
But Delta just clutched onto him harder, fingernails digging into his shoulders, eyebrows furrowing as York tried to leave him. “I told you, once, that scars tell a story. This one will come from you – it is significant to me that I be allowed to retain it.”  
  
York sighed. “I don’t get it, Dee. You really want to look like this someday?” He tried to smile, not letting the expression reach the left side of his face.  
  
“I do not understand why you continue to disparage your appearance.” Delta brought up a fingertip to prod the other side of York’s mouth to accept the smile.  
  
York nearly felt guilty for mentioning it at all as the fingertip continued to trace the scars on his face. Obviously Delta wanted him, and that should have been enough. “I’m just – not used to this kind of attention,” he admitted.  
  
“Moreover, I do not understand what is unacceptable about scarring. It is inevitable for someone in this profession.” His fingers, always accurate, continued to trace other scarred lines on York’s skin. “I consider it improbable that I should die without having acquired a few, and this –“ he traced the gash on his lip – “seems like a fitting way to begin my collection.”  
  
The touching moment was over, though, when a little blood sprayed from Delta’s mouth at the end of his sentence. “That’s it,” York told him, prying Delta’s hands away and getting up from the floor. “I’ll let it scar, but you can’t keep bleeding like that, it’s dangerous.”  
  
He felt self-conscious as he went to get their bags from the Warthog Delta had been driving, but there was no reason for it; there was no one to see them here. He dressed himself in some clean clothes before rummaging around for a medkit – and some clothes for Delta, once he heard the little moan as his partner tried to push himself off the floor. And some food, too. He was starving, and Delta couldn’t be feeling any better.  
  
“Here.” He held out the uniform to Delta, and the kid struggled with his trousers for a moment. By the time he’d pulled the turtleneck over his head, York had the medkit open, a spray bandage ready. “Hold still.” It went on sloppily, but it would stay, and that was what was important. “Feel okay?”  
  
“Yes, thank you.” He sighed heavily, sinking back onto the floor, hands behind his head.  
  
“You know, we’re very lucky,” York mused as he started unwrapping the packets containing their dinner. “That’s the first time we’ve had to use a bandage out in the field.”  
  
“I am certain it will not be the last time,” Delta muttered from the floor, and York caught a wince on his face as he propped himself up on his elbow, trying to sit upright.  
  
York reached out a hand to pull his partner up from the floor, holding Delta up with an arm around his shoulders to make sure he’d stay sitting and not go crashing back down onto the floor. “You are a constant source of optimism, Dee,” he commented sarcastically, leaning back against the wall of the warehouse as he tore open his dinner packet with his teeth. “What would I do without your enthusiastic support?” Thankfully, Delta seemed to be returning the smile that York flashed him; he was probably just exhausted from their long day.


	23. 60

Dinner was a thick, flavorless protein paste, but it would fill them and give them the energy to keep moving tonight. York, though, was happy with the warehouse they were in, and after skipping a meal, it was probably best to stay put. Delta was perking up as he ate, but he still looked ragged around the edges. Both of them needed a shower and a good bed to sleep in, but they’d made their choice to abandon such creature comforts once they’d decided to leave the Project.  
  
Really, all York could ask for at this point was that Delta was safe. He knew, logically, that the kind of worry he’d had earlier that day had been irrational, but Delta still needed to know how he’d felt. “Delta?”  
  
“Yes?” His eyes were sparkling again, and York could easily overlook the filth and see the handsome kid beneath all the dirtiness.  
  
“This is going to make me sound ridiculously insecure, but please, don’t ever leave me again.” He took another mouthful of protein, turning his face away from Delta so that his partner wouldn’t see his sudden flush.  
  
To his surprise, Delta didn’t fight him on it. “I have no desire to. I was abnormally distracted today without your presence, and I presume you must have felt no better.”  
  
“No, I mean – “ It was going to be hard to describe the crushing loneliness he’d felt, the absurd level of yearning that had consumed him without Delta next to him. “All our missions, we run together. No more splitting up, not beyond eye contact. I can’t stand you being away from me.”  
  
“And if you should fall?”  
  
“I’m not gonna die, Dee.” He tried to keep it light, but truth be told, he didn’t like thinking about it that much. He’d been lucky before, and he didn’t like to think that someday, that luck might run out.  
  
“Death is inevitable, York.” He said it so factually, as if he’d already passed the point at which dying was a concern to him.  
  
York had to wonder once again what exactly Delta had been through that would have rendered him so apathetic to dying; the subject still made York shudder after years of being in the military. “Just… stay with me.” It would give him some small comfort to know that Delta wouldn’t leave him, even if the worst should happen.  
  
“And risk recovery by Freelancer Command?” It came out in a harsh hiss, and York nearly winced as Delta’s eyes squinted angrily.  
  
“I’d stay with you,” he countered. When Delta did not relent, York just sighed heavily, held him closer, and kissed his forehead. When he pulled back, he made sure he kept eye contact, taking one of Delta’s hands and threading their fingers together. “Without you, I don’t care if they take me again. But as long as we’re together, we’re not going back there. Just… promise you’ll stay with me.”  
  
It took a few moments before Delta’s face softened, but eventually, he nodded, going back to his dinner. Once he’d finished, he had enough energy to reach for York’s forgotten battle rifle before collapsing back against the back wall of the warehouse. His head fell onto York’s shoulder, and York could hear him mumbling something about taking first watch as Delta’s body curled to fit against his side.  
  
Unbelievable. He’d fallen asleep in seconds, rifle still in hand. York couldn’t help the small smile spreading across his face, and he kissed Delta on the forehead again, unable to contain himself. “Love you,” he whispered, not wanting to wake him but needing him to know how deep the feeling went.  
  
Delta was warm against him, even though it was beginning to get chilly in the warehouse, and they were isolated enough that York felt safe drifting off to sleep himself with just his battle rifle in hand. Surprisingly, he wasn’t haunted by concerns about where they’d be going the next day or where their next meal would be coming from. As long as Delta was here with him, he had nothing to worry about.  
  
\--  
  
“All of our reasoning ends in surrender to feeling.”  
  
-  _Blaise Pascal_


End file.
